


The Lies We Tell

by StrivingArtist



Series: Lies [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Awesome Dwalin, Battle of Five Armies - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Depression, Dwalin Is A Softie, Epistolary, Implied thoughts of, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post BotFA, Realistic Depictions of Depression, Self-Harm, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, but be cautious of triggers, daily updates, dark themes, not exclusively letters, not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 10:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 32,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4475528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrivingArtist/pseuds/StrivingArtist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo never reached Ravenhill during the battle, but woke the next day on the field believing himself banished and despised. He left for home without speaking to the Company or anyone else. </p><p>The aftermath of the quest; things left unsaid, things they wish they'd never said, lies and unpleasant truths, weigh on all of them. Through letters, some of which were never sent, Dwalin, Bilbo, and Thorin, cope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thorin - November 29, 2941

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is essentially complete, and will have a new chapter posted daily throughout August.  
> To avoid confusion, all dates will be counted off a real world calendar. The battle of the Five Armies took place November 23rd, 2941. Keep in mind the dates.  
> Mind the tags please, especially as this progresses.

 

November 29th 2941

Thorin Oakenshield

Erebor

 

~~Bilbo-~~

~~My~~

~~Master Baggins- Master Burglar- Sir-~~

Bilbo-

I awoke yesterday. Fili still sleeps, but Kíli has been awake for two days. Óin is confident Fíli will wake soon. The rest of the Company was hardly injured. I was similarly assured that you were well. But as the day went on and none of the Company would tell me where you were staying, and when none would agree to ask you to visit my tent, I grew concerned. They told me you had taken part in the battle -- how could you? No, I know perfectly well how. Why is perhaps the better question. I have seen more than enough evidence of your courage since you joined the Company to know your capacity far outstrips your size. That is, you have never lacked in bravery. Nevertheless, there was no reason for you to join the fighting. You should not have been anywhere near it.

I was told you were not found until the morning after, and that you had been knocked unconscious during the fighting.

Dwalin initially refused to answer my questions. Balin avoided them. Eventually I was told you had left to journey back to your Shire. ~~Could you not have waited until I woke? This is not right, trying to give you the apology you deserve in a letter. I know that I wronged you greatly, but I had hoped I would have a chance to make amends.~~      ~~Did I mean so little to you? We never spoke of it. I know that. But did our bond not~~

You should not have travelled so soon after taking a head injury. Even with diminished numbers there will be orcs and goblins in roving packs along your road. The danger is substantial even without the added risks of winter travel. You are not a fighter and we are not there to keep you safe. I would have sent a company of guards with you. Perhaps Bofur, or some others of the Company ~~whose presence you enjoy~~ could have gone to see you safely home.

Did the Company not make it clear that you were welcome to stay? You were. You are. You will always be welcome to stay in Erebor as long as you wish. Should you ever desire to return, you are always welcome.

We would not have Erebor without you.

I would not have my life.

~~You are the sole reason that I was able~~

Furthermore. You took none of your share with you. That is not right Bilbo. You have earned your share many times over. If you will not stay and allow me and my people to honor you, then it would have only been right to see you sent home with wealth enough to ensure you would be protected and established for life. Hobbits do not have any love for the treasures and beautiful things found hidden in stone, I know this. Yet, I would wish to see you with enough treasure to ensure that what you do value is always available. I expect that will mean a full pantry and a new coat. I understand that there is nothing you want in Erebor. I only wish I could have spoken to you again before your departure.

My last words to you held no truth. Not even as an exaggeration of my sentiments. You have been nothing but loyal and true to us, ~~beyond what I could hope for~~  Beyond what we deserved. I have been lost for most of my life, Bilbo, ~~and while it is maudlin and foolish, I had begun to think I had found a home with~~  So I thank you for helping me to recover my grandfather’s kingdom.   ~~It will never be home to me while~~

I will expect no response from you.

I deserve none.

I have no right to think you will forgive me for my actions when last we spoke. I have no expectation of being forgiven, but I would be remiss if I did not tell you how deeply it cuts me to recall the way you looked at me then. I am not worthy of forgiveness for the harm I intended you and I can only thank Mahal and the wizard for preventing me doing what I began. The memory of seeing you there, I believe, will never leave me.

Had ~~I killed you~~ I not been stopped, I am certain that, if I had still escaped from the madness, ~~that knowledge would have driven me to~~          I would have abdicated the throne in shame. It has never been spoken of between us, and I have been fortunate in a life bereft of most joy to have known companionship. ~~I will not know it again.~~

Since I cannot think you will ever wish to return to Erebor, I must wish you every happiness. The Shire is your home, I would not ask you to leave it, no matter my own ~~desires. Our cold mountain could never bring you happiness. Yet without your help, none of us would be here today. You are a truer friend than we dwarves deserve. Than I deserve~~

You have our eternal thanks and support in anything you should need, I swear that in the name of my forefathers.

 

~~with all love,   sincerely, fondly,~~

with my grateful regards,

  


 

Thorin Oakenshield

  


~~Please Bilbo, come back so I can finally~~

~~Please come back~~

~~So I can say~~

~~Please come back  to us,~~

~~to me.~~

 

 

**_\----------UNSENT----------_ **

 

 


	2. Bilbo - June 23, 2942

June 23rd, 2942

Bilbo Baggins

Hobbiton

 

~~Dear Th~~

~~Thorin,~~

Greetings Dwarves

I got back ~~home~~ yesterday. I’d been declared dead, but I’ve taken care of that. I haven’t most of my things anymore. Isn’t that just silly? All that time I spent on the road with all of you talking about how much I wanted to go home to my arm chair and my arm chair had wandered off when I wasn’t looking. It should be fine, I’ve gold enough to buy it all back, but I’m sitting in the only chair I have at present, and I should never have left.

I should never have run out my door after you on your mad quest. It was never mine, and I should have seen that sooner. I should have seen before that day that I was never one of you. I just wanted it to be, and maybe that is why I left with you. It’s certainly why I kept saving you all, trying to save you at least.

I just wanted you all to stay alive. ~~I wanted your smug, brooding frown to sit on that damnable throne and I~~

I should never have gone with you, but I did, and I wish I could hate you for letting me at all. If you were going to send me away couldn’t you have done so before? Couldn’t you have sent me away that night in the mountains? Or refused to let me continue on after Rivendell and that mess with the trolls? I nearly got us killed. I know it. You certainly said it enough yourself. Why didn’t you send me away? You always wanted me gone and I only kept going because I’m a fool. More a fool than you and you marched across Arda to face a dragon and never bothered to think of a plan for it. You utter, utter fool.

How can you be that stupid and that brave ~~and that wonderful~~ all at the same time? I would have stayed, I wanted to stay. ~~I wanted~~

I guess I’m even more the fool. Dwarves never let outsiders into their lives. You all never want anything to do with the other races. You just needed me because I don’t smell like a dwarf, so I could go steal your bloody arkenstone, and I did. It wasn’t quite the way you wanted it, but it was the only way, and you did contract me to steal it. I’m sure Bard handed it over after you gave him my share. So you've got your stupid shiny rock in the end. ~~I hope it never brings you~~ I hope it can make you as happy as you thought it could.

Why did you ever bother to be kind to me? ~~The things you said, Thorin. I thought that     Are you that cruel?  I didn’t think that you coul~~

I didn’t think.

I know that now. I just didn’t think. If I had, I would have known that you would never want anything to do with me. I would have seen that the kindness you showed was just an obligation after I helped in the mountains with the orc. I hate you for it now. I truly do. I hate you, and I plan to go on hating you for the rest of my life. I’m going to hate you and I’m going to go back to being who I am supposed to be. Which is a hobbit. A quiet respectable hobbit. Just a hobbit, not some strange mash of a person who wants to be something I’m not.

Why am I bothering? I’m not going to send this of course. I’m not sure about the particulars of Dwarven manners and the rules of being banished for your kind, if you have any at all, but I do think that writing letters to someone that hates you is frowned upon. I suppose I thought writing this would make me feel better. But I was wrong about that too.

I’ll not bother you. It’s not as if you care.

 

I hate you.

 

 

_**\--------UNSENT--------** _

 

 


	3. Dwalin - November 16, 2943

November 16th, 2943

Dwalin son of Fundin

Erebor

Bilbo Baggins, Bag End, Hobbiton, The Shire.

I have heard that you have reached your home safely. I am glad to hear it. The roads you travelled, even without all the fun of the orcs that pursued us are still treacherous. You should not have left on your own and next time I see you I’ll have to smack you for doing something so stupid. I’ll also have to smack you for the fact that I had to hear you were well from a member of a caravan that came over from Ered Luin. You couldn’t have written them a letter to carry?

We haven’t heard a word from you. Damn near two years and we hadn’t heard a word from you.

Is that what we did to your good hobbit manners? Can’t even be bothered to scratch out a quick note? I took you for a bit fussier about manners than us.

Now don’t take me too seriously, Balin just went on at me for half a pipe when he looked over my shoulder. He thinks my more delicate tone might not translate well on a page. But you know I don’t mean it like that.

You did get told that the whole mess was revoked, right? You aren’t banished. Never rightly were anyway. That would have taken paperwork and all that fuss. But it’s been officially revoked. You’re welcome to come to Erebor and walk right in the gates, easy as you please.

The others were worried about writing to you since they figured if you hadn’t written you didn’t want to hear from us. Thorin actually told me not to write since he didn’t want to bother you -- he thinks we’ve bothered you more than enough. Well, toss this in the fire if you want, but I was never one to worry about any of that, and I wanted to hear from you that you were doing well, not third hand. After all those weeks you spent listening to me in Mirkwood, maybe you won’t mind hearing from me again. Matter of fact, I should have written sooner.

It is already starting on winter here. It’s a bit odd that so much time has passed. You’ve been gone longer than we knew you. Erebor’s not the same without you. You wouldn’t recognize it.

You’d like it more now I reckon. Pantry’s full now for one thing. Maybe you’d like a bit of a turnaround? We never did repay you for emptying yours. We’ve got all the gold in the world, and even if the newcomers seem to want to keep it all, the Company is happy to buy what we want. Seems we’re keeping all the food traders in the region happy. I think that’s your fault -- you were always talking on and on about the things you wanted to eat while we were on the Quest. Got it in our heads that after all was said and done we’d get to eat roast and fresh cream and have spices any time we pleased. Well. now we do. Not that we know what to do with them. Bombur tries, but I think you can out do him. You hobbits have a finer hand at that than most of us. Well, me in particular. You aren’t going to leave me to do my own cooking are you? That’s awfully rude of you. There’s a reason I never minded cram. Damn sight better than what I can manage.

Glóin has your share tallied up and divided away so when you tell us where you want it we can ship it off. Bofur’ll want to be the one to bring it over to you. I’d probably come along too, make sure it got to you. Or you can just come back here and spend it all in Dale. They’d be glad of it.

If no one told you, The Men got their share right and proper. It was a few weeks before it could get done, but they got repaid and compensated. Thought you’d like to know that. They’ve got Dale fixed up, mostly thanks to paying us back most of what we gave them in exchange for our help. But it’s properly livable now, and they put that Bargeman in charge of it. You remember him? With the toilet?

Apparently he’s the one what killed Smaug. Did anyone tell you that? Probably did. You were in their camp before you left. He’s done a good job of it. Didn’t let the gold we sent flood the market, and didn’t bother with any of the fineries of his position til after the men of Laketown had solid roofs and full larders.

Bofur’s saying I should tell you about the repairs to the Mountain, but I don’t know if you want to hear that most of the bridges and spans still had acceptable tensile strength and the ones that didn’t have been repaired or reinforced. He also thinks you’ll care to know that the front gate’s been rebuilt entirely and most all of the mines are still structurally sound, except for the ones that were already closed down when we lost Erebor. Those are no good. Heh. But I guess I’ve already told you. Hope you enjoyed that.

Right. I’ve been going on long enough.

We’re glad you made it back safe though I still can't believe you did it on your own. Hope you’ve got a full larder and everything else you went on about while we dragged you around with us.

You’re well missed, and not just by the Company, though we miss you most of all. Damn near every tale and song I hear includes you these days. You ought to be here so folk can fawn over you proper.

 

You’ll always be welcome

Dwalin son of Fundin

Like I said, toss this in the fire if you don’t want to hear from us, but I’d like it if you wrote back to me, or wrote to any of the others.

 


	4. Bilbo - March 7, 2944

March 7th, 2944

Bilbo Baggins

Hobbiton

 

Dwalin son of Fundin, Erebor

Oh dear, I realized I don’t even know where to properly post a reply. Do I need to be more specific than Erebor? I suppose if you’re reading this then no, I didn’t have to be. I guess I’m hoping that you’re well known enough there that this will reach you. I imagine you must be. The Company must all be well known in the Mountain, unless they do not want to be. Though I imagine even that would not be enough to dissuade gossips from keeping track of you all. I hope they aren’t bothering you all too much and let you have your peace and happiness. You all deserve that.

You’re right, I was remiss in not sending you notice of my safe return, but you must understand that until I received your letter I had not known the banishment had been lifted. I know you say it was never official, but I really must disagree. I am aware of what I did and realized even then that there must be consequences.

I reached the Shire, and Hobbiton, without complication, excluding a few of my more tenacious relatives having me declared dead and my possessions being sold at auction. I suppose I have the battle to thank for my safe travels, seeing as it must have killed nearly all the orcs and goblins and foul things in the mountains.

The situation has been rectified now, though I did go through quite a bit of bother and rather a lot of the gold you all buried at that troll cave to get everything back. Hardly a problem, I could always go off and fetch more if I need it as it was all still there. I doubt anyone will wander into that foul hole by mistake. On that subject, there’s no need for you or Bofur or anyone else to bring me any of my share. I gave it away to Dale, and I have no need of it. Though I am glad to hear that Bard is using it well. What I mean to say that it is all taken care of now, everything is back where it ought to be.  

You did not say anything on the subject, but I assume that everyone is well healed by now. It’s been more than two years since the battle after all. (it will be nearly three before you read this, and longer still before I hear a reply, if you want to reply, which you have no obligation to do). I heard before my departure that everyone would live, and that was confirmed by the merchant I spoke to in Bree, who was happy to tell me about all the great deeds you all have done, but I would like to hear it once more from the source if you would be so kind.

Rumors have reached even my backward corner of Arda by now, so I have heard that the coronation finally happened. Did Thranduil truly arrive on another elk? It's hard to sort out the fact from the fancy - especially about the elves - since most of what is heard in the Shire comes from the dwarves of Ered Luin, and they are fewer and fewer as they return to Erebor. Not that I expect I’ll get unbiased truth from asking you.

Truly, I appreciate your taking the time to write, many of my relatives here are still undecided about whether they will forgive me for my adventure. I’m something of a scandal here now. I’m not that bothered by it. Though I would prefer to do my market day shopping with a bit less chatter following me. At least I never lack for visitors at tea time.

I am glad to hear that repairs are going well.  

 

Please pass on my regards to the Company.

Bilbo Baggins

 


	5. Dwalin - July 22, 2944

July 22nd, 2944

Dwalin

Erebor

 

Mister Baggins-

I got your letter fine. You’re right about us being known, even Ori, who’s got the least fuss following after him, still gets recognized more often than not. Of course, Ori wrote the chronicle, and he played down his part rather a lot. Didn’t even mention the warg he killed with my hammer. Still hasn’t given that hammer back by the way. He snagged it when the elves returned all our stuff. Little bugger. Guess he’s taking after Nori more than we thought he would.

Aye, That great prancing tosser rode up on an elk. Don’t rightly know if he knows how to get from place to place without one to be honest. He brought that blonde archer that gave us a bit of help on Ravenhill. That’s apparently his son. He also brought that little red headed minx that nearly caught us on the river. Kíli was right glad to see her. Never seen Thorin turn quite that shade of purple before, but he kept his fool mouth shut on it. She saved the lads, even if Ori played that part down a bit as well. Fíli and Kíli have never had any issue reminding us all why the two of them are alive today.

I think a lot of us were hoping you’d come for the coronation, but I guess you didn’t even hear about it until after it happened. Would have been nice to have you here.You’re the only reason any of us ever saw the mountain after all.

Second coronation really. We crowned Thorin as soon as we could get him standing upright long enough to make it through the ceremony -- that was round about midwinter. Looked pretty green the first time, looked better second time around. You’d have liked it Bilbo, though I think you’d have had a word or two to say about the feast. Taters count as vegetables right? Well, you weren’t here to tell us to eat any leaves, so I gotta admit we didn’t.

Apparently none of these bastards believed I even knew how to hold a quill.

Thorin just stopped by to ask who I was writing to, and gave me a pile of trouble for the fact that I was bothering to write anyone at all. I asked if he wanted me to tell you anything and he said he could write his own letters. So you’ll probably be hearing from him. Told the others to write to you as well, but it’s all a bit mad here with everything that’s happening. I'm sure they'll make time though. Thorin nagged at us all til we were ready to lock him in the mines before we heard you were back in the Shire. Now he’s always chasing us down to make sure you aren’t coming back.

We’ve got a set of rooms for you if you ever do.

Now then, what’s all this about them declaring you dead? And they sold your stuff? Hopefully not that armchair we heard so much about. Don’t think you know how to get on without your armchair and your hankies. Would life still be worth living for you if you couldn’t have your tea and scones? Though, I’ve had something you baked, and I gotta say it may not be worth it to go on without those biscuits of yours. Don’t suppose I can talk you into coming to Erebor and baking all day can I?

But what your kin did, that’s not right, and I hope you whacked them all around the fields a few times for doing it. Course, you’re no fine hand with that sword of yours, but you probably could scare the piss out of all those soft little hobbits if you show them what you can do.

Everyone healed up just fine here. Nori’s still whining about the scar across his eyebrow ruining his braids. Kíli tells everyone about the scars on his leg, one from Mirkwood, and one from the battle. Wish he’d shut up about it most of the time. I’ve got my new inkings done now that Erebor’s got an expert in residence again.

What about that knock to the head you took? All patched up? Though, I think a couple scars might make you look a bit more like the Hobbit you turned out to be rather than that soft one we met at first.

I think the elves did something when they last came to annoy us. The whole front of the mountain is starting to get green again. That or the plants are just glad not to have a dragon napping nearby. Either way, there’s things growing here, and trees are sprouting on the slopes again. Wee little things, but they’re growing up fast.

You wouldn’t even recognize the mountain if you saw it.

We’re gonna keep those rooms set up for you so they’ll be ready when you visit.

 

At your service,

 

Dwalin son of Fundin

 

Forgot about this: Thorin's working on setting up the old raven stations again. It’ll mean faster mail once they do.  


	6. Bilbo - October 12, 2944

October 12th 2944

Bilbo Baggins

Hobbiton

 

Dwalin-

No, you’re quite right, I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have my armchair and my books and everything else. I don’t think I’d be Bilbo Baggins anymore. Don’t know who I’d be. Maybe no one.

Fortunately, I don’t have to find out. I have all of my things back and I can be who I am meant to be, thank you very much. As that can only happen here in Shire where I am meant to be, here is where I’ll stay. I wouldn’t want to go provoking him into another, well, another situation. Gandalf might not be there to talk him out of it the next time.

It’s why I left and I made the proper decision to do so. I only barely got back in time to keep the Sackville-Baggins’ claim on my home from being honored. Besides, if I had stayed I would have had to wait for ~~him~~ them to wake. At the time I did not know how long that would be, nor what kind of reception I would receive, nor if he would wake at all. I could have been jailed. You do recall how he and I parted ways, do you not? I’ve no wish to go through that again. I left then because my safety was not certain. How was I even to know what his response would be when he woke? I’m sorry if I caused you to worry, though I doubt it was a great concern, but I made the right choice.

As for myself, I’m entirely healed. Lord Elrond was kind enough to look at me when I stopped for a time in Rivendell. He assured me that Beorn had done a fine job and there was no lingering damage. I am sorry to disappoint, but I haven’t hardly an scars. I look quite like a proper hobbit again. I even had to buy new clothes since I didn’t fit in any of the old ones. I keep my larder fully stocked, I go down to the shops at least twice a week and I eat a proper number of meals again, some days as many as nine. All the lovely things I didn’t get to have then. Just because I can.

I made a delightful roast of pork the other day. Citrus and spices and I let it cook over the fire for most of the day. I had fresh bread and biscuits. I bought some soft fresh cheese at the market and drowned it in seasoned oil before mixing it with the dried tomatoes I made this summer. I even took the time to make proper pastry while it roasted so I could make hand pies with the excess. There were all manner of leafy things and green things and vegetables too I’ll have you know. I could never possibly come live in Erebor, I’m no dwarf to live without fresh vegetables.

Though, I have included the recipe for you.

I did have to restock my larder for the winter at the market though. It seems I’m somewhat out of habit with my garden, or perhaps I just need to bring in new soil. Goodness only knows what mischief Lobelia got to when I came back and thwarted her, but it seems like each harvest has been a bit smaller than the last.

But again, I’ve gold enough to buy whatever I need. That was not an invitation for you to flood my home with coin. Your letters are more than enough.

Do the elves visit regularly? I would like to know what they did to help the land there. It was so bleak and dead. As deep as I could feel there was nothing alive there. Whatever they did must have been very generous of them. I’m surprised that they would help after what passed between your peoples. But I am glad to hear that they did.

It is very kind of you to write to me. I’m certain that there is plenty to keep you busy there. You’re certainly don’t have to continue, and I’ll understand if you need to spend your time in more important pursuits, but know that I appreciate it.

 

Please pass my regards to the others. I hope they’re well.

 

 

Bilbo Baggins

 

 

 


	7. Dwalin - February 12, 2945

February 12th, 2945

Dwalin

Erebor

 

 

Dear Bilbo

 

Bilbo you fool Hobbit, you’re talking nonsense. He’d forgiven you before you made it as far as the forest. He’d forgiven you before we even got into the battle ourselves. You just didn’t wait around for him to say it to you his own self. He wanted to. Still does. If you’d waited another week he’d have sent you off with gold and guards and glory. And he should have. Has he written to you yet? He’s always going on, but you’ve never mentioned it. You should write to him. You should write to the others too, they’re getting jealous, but you should really write something to him. He’s a miserable sod after I hear from you. And if you have anything to say to him that you may have left unsaid when you vanished like that, go ahead and tell him. He deserves to hear it, and you deserve to say it. Whatever it may be.

You know you ought to have waited Bilbo. And you should know that we were worried. Of course we were. Still can’t rightly believe you managed to cross back over the mountains alone, but you always were something else than what you seemed. Probably the only way you got through that mess. Every time Ori’s chronicle gets read out one or another of us gets asked if you really did all that.

Still can’t believe it, and I saw you do most of it. By my beard Bilbo, I thought you weren’t gonna make it past that first river we crossed. You’re not really like the other hobbits are you? Don’t know how you fit in back in that Shire of yours.

Just about all of the main spaces in the mountain are restored now, and all the living spaces, forges, and communal areas are stabilized and livable. We’re still working on getting some of them dressed back up as nice as the rest of the place, but we’ve got more than enough hands now. Mountain feels fit to burst some days, but Balin keeps telling me about how there’s not a third of the population there was when that dragon came.

Strange to think that it’s not just the Company here.

Gotten to where I don’t even see some of us for a few weeks. Feel terrible for it, but Erebor’s a big place, and with all these other folks in the way, it’s easy to forget someone when you don’t see much of them.

This should be the last letter you get before we have the ravens set up. Letters will leave the Mountain on a raven, fly through the stations in the forest and the Misty Mountains, then cross Eriador and stop at Ered Luin. Then they get sent down to Bree with a merchant or a caravan or something. Wasn’t really listening when Balin talked through it all. What matters is they checked it, sent a bunch of letters, haven't lost one yet. So once it starts, you’ll send your letters with a merchant back to the Blue Mountains, they’ll know what to do from there.

There’s dwarves at all the Raven Stations of course. Somebody has to keep them stocked and make sure nothing’s gone wrong. Also means that our people have a place to check in as they travel. Helps to keep everybody safer.

Might be the best thing that Thorin’s decided to do since he got up out of that sick bed of his. This or the fact that while he was unconscious he learned how to talk to the elves without descending into cursing.      Balin made me write that, I think it’s great when he starts muttering in khuzdul about what they get up to with those trees they’re so fond of.

This is why they keep me out of the council rooms when the bastards come around.

Now that almost everything’s cleaned up we’ve started in on the luxuries. Most of the pipes from the hot springs are still in place, and if they ever get all the leaves and dirt out of the chimney system, it’ll simplify a lot of things. It’s almost working now, but there’s just too much mess in the way for anything to flow properly.

Doubt you could stand living here with us. Don’t think you’d do well under the mountain. No sun. You were always going on about how you loved the sun. But we’d still love to have you here.

Hope the Shire’s treating you well. They aren’t still trying to claim you’re dead or anything? If you still have trouble with your garden you’re welcome to come here and plant things all over the mountain. Sure the Elves would be happy to help you.

Don’t be daft Bilbo, after all the time you spent chatting with me in that pointy-eared bastard’s prison, of course I’m writing to you. You sat there for a chunk of each day for more than a month letting me chat at you about things you probably didn’t understand or care about. Kept me from going crazy in there. I figure I owe it to you to keep writing.

 

Your rooms are still waiting for you.

 

Dwalin

 

  
Write to him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kaniner and Cyprith get extra love today for snapping at a rude anon on my behalf!


	8. Bilbo - May 1, 2945

May 1st, 2945

Bilbo Baggins

Hobbiton

 

 

Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son Thror, King under the Mountain

Hello. Dwalin has encouraged me to write to you several times, and while I have not told him of this, I clearly am. Obviously I am, since you are now reading this. He is well convinced that you will be pleased to hear from me, but I am less certain. It has been years, but I guess you would recall how we parted. Or maybe you don’t. Perhaps it had more meaning for me than for you.

Dwalin has also told me that you have taken back the banishment you pronounced that day. But if my writing to you is improper by dwarven standards, by all means, destroy this and have done.  He says that you revoked it, but, I think that may have been a matter of politics. I think you were placating the elves and men.

I’ll know what it means if I don’t hear back from you.

I would only ask that you not mention this to Dwalin. He and I have exchanged letters several times now, and they’re becoming bright points for me. I would not want to lose them, and I expect I will if the following is unwelcome. He is so loyal and true, and has been a good friend to me, but I know you have his first loyalty. As it should be.

He said I should tell you whatever I had left unsaid, and I do not know if he was speculating or if he is more clever in his assessments than I would have guessed, but he is correct. That there is something. That is, that there is a conversation I would have liked to have with you had things transpired other than they did. I cannot undo my actions regarding the Arkenstone. I know how deeply I betrayed you, and perhaps I should take this letter to apologize, but I never will, even if you hate me for it. I regret that it was necessary, and I wish there had been another way for me to protect the Company, but I will not apologize for saving your lives. Not ever.

Even if it means that I have lost you.

I do not know if I ever had you. Even a part of you. When I took that stone I believed that what was between us, what we had built, that fledgling -- I do not know what to call it, Thorin -- But I thought it would be enough to let you hear me when I explained. It wasn’t, obviously. I should not have presumed that I was seeing any kind of an attachment or affection. It became clear through your reaction that you did not harbor any feelings like my own.

I would not mention this at all, but, as I have said, Dwalin has encouraged me to contact you in every letter he has written. It is difficult not to trust him. Likely, because I want him to be right.

It is foolishness, but, I am going to take a risk, and do something foolish.

I shall just be brave.

I have loved you longer than I even liked you, Thorin.

It was against my will, I think, falling in love with you. I had resisted it for decades, ever since I lost my parents.  Had you asked, I would have stayed in Erebor, however you would have me, as a friend or as more.  Not that I believe either of those is possible now. You see, I returned to the Shire, but you all ruined it for me. Not like that. Everything here is as it has always been, excepting my garden. Nothing grows for me there. ~~Which is how I know that~~  But I came back, and I know I was wrong in all my complaints during our quest. This is not what I want. I pretended for a time, but even that is becoming impossible to maintain because I cannot stop thinking of what could be.

I am unwelcome here now, and it is only growing worse. Too strange to be tolerated, but I cannot bring myself to comply with their petty social requirements, and I hate pretending that I do not miss you. Such a pairing is unheard of in the Shire. Both your race and your gender in fact. I would not care. If I could have you, I would happily abandon all of their ridiculous beliefs. It would not, Does Not Matter to me. It has never mattered to me.

I would merrily give my home over to the Sackville-Baggins line and run back across Arda for you. Even if it meant that I had to reface everything I did the first time. Goblins, spiders, Smaug, Azog, all of it. I should have stayed to see you wake. I had no hope then, but I should have, out of decency to allow you to pass judgement on me if nothing else. I have considered travelling without writing. Just, running out my door after you like I did before. It is not a fear of the road that keeps me here. I do not know if I could survive hearing your rejection. That’s why I ask you simply to leave me with silence.

If this is unwelcome, I can learn to pretend. I was. Truly, before Dwalin started bothering me about it, I was learning how to not think about it you. It has been harder since, but I can go back to that, please have no concern on account of my feelings. Maybe I’ll even manage to convince myself. I shall find a nice lass and get married and breed a whole herd of fauntlings and I’ll never think on you again.

If Dwalin is wrong, there is no need to trouble with a reply. If you feel about me as I fear you do, I could not bear to hear your thoughts. I’ll simply understand if I have not heard from you by winter. That should be plenty of time. And I will move on. I am perfectly able to do that. You’ll not hear another word of this. If Dwalin continues to write to me, I’ll not burden him with it. I will bury it, and let it die.

I should begin that now. Your face when you learned of my betrayal is something I will never forget. You could not ever put that aside.

~~Nor will I forget the look in your eyes at Laketown~~

This is likely a mistake, but I am trying to be brave. I would throw this in the fire here and now, but I promised myself I would send it, and I think I have enough courage left for this deed before I return to what I fear I am becoming. I am going to hand this to a bounder as soon as the ink is dry.

I have no expectations of this, do not insult me by replying out of pity.

 

Yours sincerely,

 

Bilbo Baggins

 

 

 

 

 

 

**\--------LOST IN TRANSIT IN THE MISTY MOUNTAINS--------**

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /flees.


	9. Lobelia - May 17, 2945

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, I'm absolutely floored by the response to the last chapter. Slack jawed, wide-eyed, a little bit of drool... just _astounded_. I love all of you so very very much. Also, I'm ~~not even a little bit~~ sorry for what I've done.

May 17th, 2945

Lobelia Sackville-Baggins

Hobbiton

 

 

Dear Mister Baggins.

IF that really is who you are and you aren’t simply some imposter pretending to be my dead cousin as part of some plot to deny me what is rightly mine.

I will have you know, sir, that the way you carry on in that fine home is positively disgraceful. Bungo would never have approved of the shameful state of your garden. I walked by yesterday with my husband and we saw the way your roses were wilting. What roses there were that is. Why, there were hardly enough things growing by your house to even call it a garden. I do honestly believe that if would grow more left to its own will.

Disgraceful.

If you cannot grow a Proper Garden, then you should see about hiring a gardener so that the rest of us don’t have to have that waved at us everytime we go over the Hill. Or you need to repair whatever it is that keeps you from growing things.

What in the name of all that’s green could have happened to make you behave like this? And why won’t you tell anyone what happened while you were out wandering with dwarves?

We’ll have no more of it, if you insist on behaving like this, I’ll have a word with your uncle and we’ll see if you keep up such appalling behavior after you’ve been told by the council to cease it.

Or maybe the Thain will just insist you move back to live in the great smials. Perhaps you should consider that option Mister Baggins, then at least you’d have company. I know you have none now.

What in all Arda is the matter with you? If you continue on like this you’ll not be invited to any party of mine again, and I’ll see to it that none of the others invite you either.

I suppose, if you manage to hold a Proper birthday party this year, that I might reconsider my judgement of you, but I doubt you can. Do try to do better than last year. You only had a dozen people there. And the presents were slapdash. The handwriting in your invitations last fall was positively messy. Have you no respect? No decency?

At least try.

I do so sincerely hope that I won’t have any reason to go to the Thain about you, but you know what they call you, Mister Mad Baggins. If you can’t seem to turn proper again, I shall have to lodge a complaint and make sure that someone does something to turn you around. I don’t believe you’ve held so much as a pleasant conversation in a year. Everyone knows that running off into the blue has ruined you, except for you.You came back a different hobbit, if I can call you a hobbit at all.

You were doing quite well before. What could possibly have changed? Your tailor told me he had to make you new things since the old ones couldn’t be let out any further. Now they’re downright baggy on you. You need to start eating like you were and fill those clothes in again.

You must start acting normally and gardening properly again or Hobbitton won’t stand for it.  You knew that perfectly well, but now I know it’s been said and you shan’t be able to pretend otherwise.

 

Lobelia Sackville-Baggins.

 

 


	10. Thorin - June 5, 2945

June 5th, 2945

Thorin Oakenshield

Erebor

 

 

If you had stayed I would have found a way to convince you how deeply I regret my actions. I would have done whatever was necessary for you to see how much we owe to you, and how much we value you. After everything that you did to help us reclaim our home. Mahal, it was not even yours and yet you did so much. How could you have found such strength when my own people were too craven to even support us in food and coin? How could you stand by us when we had done nothing to deserve you?

But your departure and your subsequent silence have made it clear that you do not desire our continued friendship. That is right. It is as it should be after we betrayed you as we did.

You always were more ~~than we~~  than I deserved.

Do you recall Rivendell?

Of course you do, we were there some time, and I have heard that you stopped there on the way back to your home. I hope your home is everything that you longed for and that it offers to you no disappointment. Rivendell is when ~~XXXXXXXXXXXXXX~~

Four years ago, almost exactly, you and I stood on a balcony in Rivendell and watched the stars. You had heard the Elf-Lord and the Wizard discussing me. Somehow you still had faith in me. I, who had given you no cause, had your faith and trust. It makes no sense.

Four years Bilbo, and I still do not understand how that could be. You are better than I could ever  ---- It means nothing to say it here.

Dwalin allowed me to read your latest letter to him. You have your home, you have your garden, your books. You have everything that we so selfishly dragged you away from. I am glad to hear it. I am glad you have the happiness you desire in life. You have your quiet peace. I wonder sometimes that you could still be happy in the Shire. I am glad you do not need us. You seemed happy with us at the end. Not at first. But as we drew close to the Mountain. Was that just good manners? Maybe I was wrong about what I saw, or what I thought I saw, between us.

I have not had much cause for hope in my life Bilbo, but when you appeared against all odds in the Mountains, I felt it again for the first time. Now that you are re   

I am working to rebuild the mountain as it is meant to be. There is still much to be done, and I will not be satisfied until I have seen it restored to glory. It may be enough to overwrite my crimes. So many have returned, thinking to find the home that they recall from youth, and the look of disappointment in their eyes is haunting. The Company works hard, and I try to provide what help I may where it is needed. But there is so much to be done. My efforts are insufficient.

I have even negotiated -- I will not lie and claim it to be amiably, but civilly? -- with the elves. I do not know what has prompted them to reply in kind, but it is likely your legacy. That is certainly what causes me to rethink my own actions and decisions. During that first winter we took in the refugees from the Lake, and I swear to you Bilbo, it was your voice in my head urging me to do so when Dain and the others doubted that we could trust them. ~~I wish I could hear your voice again.~~

Though, I know that my visiting you would be unwelcome. I was wrong about what I saw between us. You have never written to any but Dwalin. It is a formality for you, I am sure, though I would never say such to him. Your good manners cannot allow you not to respond to his questions. He has invited you many times to come to visit us here so that we, so that I, can make amends, but you have never accepted. He does not hear the falseness in your reasons. He does not want to.

There are a great many things I have done in my life that I am ashamed of. Most all of them occurred before you ever heard my name, terrible things Bilbo. Mahal forgive me, but the things that my people resorted to before you were even born as we struggled to survive in a world that did not care for us ---- You would never have called me loyal or noble had you known our history. My history. I can say that what was done was necessary, and painful as it was, I would do all of it again in defense of my people. It was born of a bleak time in our lives, but we clung to what was needful and we found our path once more. I did not deserve your loyalty.

What I did to you though. You do not understand I think. You do not understand the severity of what I did. For me to have acted so brutally against a member of my company, who should have had my absolute trust. For me to have to lain hands upon you in violence when you are the sole reason I survived long enough to reach the mountain is unforgivable. It is only Balin and Dwalin and Dís’ reassurance that my actions were motivated by the Dragon’s curse that kept me from abdicating my throne in shame.

Were Fíli older I would have. No matter what they said. But he was not raised to this. I cannot abandon him to a life he should not have to shoulder for nearly another century.

Since I cannot come to the Shire to atone, I try to dedicate my labor to Erebor. I try to honor the sacrifices you made for us, by being as true to her needs as you were to the Quest’s success.

The chronicle of our quest makes little comment on my fall into dishonor. I ordered it to be included, but Ori refused to amend the text. His reasoning was sound, that it would do no good to the legacy of the Longbeards, and thus harm my sister-sons. He did agree to write an addition to one of the tomes on Goldsickenss and Dragon Curses. There, what I did is written in full. Every fleck of my shame captured in khuzdul and recorded so that I might be rightly judged by future scholars.

No matter what I want, I must put Erebor first. 

If you would only come here Bilbo, if you would only

It matters not. What I would have from you matters not. I know this. I lost all right to ask anything of you, so I will not place you in a position where you would be uncomfortable. I have known many griefs in my life, and I had thought that I knew how to bear them as well as any. I do not know if it is the effect of your absence, or a lingering trace of the gold sickness, but I find that ~~XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX~~

I wish that you could be as happy here as you are in your Shire, Bilbo.

  
  
\--------UNSENT--------


	11. Dwalin - June 10, 2945

June 10th, 2945

Dwalin

Erebor

 

 

Lady Dís

I know you weren’t planning to come back to the mountain from your little trip over to the Iron Hills for a few months yet, but if you can get your pretty hands untangled from that whole mess, you should. Leave Fíli, he can manage whatever you’ve got started there. He’s not half as bad at it as we all joke.

You know I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important. He’s not listening to me, and he’s a damn sight worse today than he was when you left. A raven arrived yesterday, and I’m not sure he didn’t know about it before the keepers. Wasn’t even from Bilbo. Has he written? No, that’s not the question, I know he writes, I’ve caught him at it. Do you know if he’s ever managed to send any of them?

He’s working himself ragged Dís. The meetings and the negotiations and he’s helping with the clean out of the new areas we opened and if the Guildmasters would let him, I think he’d try to help in the mines and with the masons. It’s bad Dís. Not like he was before Ered Luin, it’s not that far yet, but it’s not good either. He’s still eating. He’s still showing up to all the meetings and whatever else Balin schedules for him to do, he hasn’t vanished on us yet, but I don’t think he’s been in a forge since that time we found him in there making that -- well, no, we never figured out what it was he was making, did we? But we know who it was for. ~~If he hadn’t dropped it back in the crucible~~  It doesn’t matter, he did, and he hasn’t been back in a forge since, near as I can tell. Nori’s not heard about him going even close to the craft halls since then. He sends Balin to the guild meetings.

Don’t bother telling me off again for what I said to him in March, I know it didn’t do any good, and I shouldn’t have said it. I lost my temper. Certainly apologized to him enough for it. Not that it’s helped.

But Dís, you have got to get back. He’ll listen to you. Or at least, he’ll let you take some of the meetings and paperwork he buries himself under, and maybe the rest of us can start drawing him back out. Balin cleared a full day for him this week, we all tried to get him in his forge, or on the fields. Kíli asked him to go down and spar. He didn’t do a bit of it. Far as I knew then, he claimed he was going to use the day to get some rest and hid in his chambers. Wasn’t happy about that, but if that’s what he needed, then fine. I know he’s not been sleeping enough. Got it from one of the guards later, he spent the entire day on the little ledge outside the secret door.

Don’t know what it means, but I know it isn’t good.  

We both know what would really help him, and I’ve tried, I swear I’ll keep trying, but I don’t think it’ll happen. So, I’m going to need your help to bring him back.

Fíli can handle whatever you’ve got on the fire.

 

Get back here.  

 

Dwalin

 

 


	12. Dwalin - June 11, 2945

June 11th 2945

Dwalin

Erebor

 

Dear Bilbo

Haven’t heard from you yet, but if you leave right after getting this, I think you can make it here in time for the anniversary. (You should be getting this on the Ravens, so at least let me know when you received this, and from now on, send letters back towards Ered Luin. They’ll know what to do.) You can consider this your official invitation if you want. We’re finally doing something proper this year now that Dale’s in better shape. Erebor is as well. We’re starting to look like a proper kingdom again. You should come see it.

There’s gonna be a festival and a feast and a memorial. I think they’re planning on cooking for most of the week before hand, and I know that about half the dwarves here are working on some part of the to do. It’ll be a grand affair. You should come to see it. I think you’d be shocked at what all we’ve got here now. The whole area, lake to mountain was a mess when you left, you’ve never seen what it’s really like here. Getting to be properly pretty again.

Thorin’s got a whole mess of acorns, and we’re gonna plant the lot of them across the battlefield, see if we can get a bit more growing out there. Don’t worry, not the places where Bard’s planted fields, the other side. They told us that oak trees wouldn’t do any good for the simple things in their fields.

We all figured that this is because of ‘Oakenshield’. But he kept claiming it wasn’t. I bugged him about it over a couple of pipes. Apparently this is all to do with you. He wouldn’t say much more than that about it, but he mentioned he hopes you planted yours? Maybe if you come back you can tell us the whole story and make all this tree planting make sense to everybody else. Thorin’s not likely to suddenly start talking.

If you travel fast enough you could maybe even be here for your birthday. We haven’t forgotten, not after how you went on that night in Laketown about spending your birthday clinging to a barrel. And that’s another thing Bilbo, why didn’t you tell us you couldn’t swim? Only learned that from Ori a few weeks back when he was editing the chronicle. Don’t know what you were thinking jumping in that river. You should have told us.

You must have some kind of death wish, otherwise you’re the bravest hobbit the world’s ever seen.

The trolls, Azog, the spiders, the barrels, the dragon. Then you ran into the battle. Then you ran off towards the mountains on your own.

I think everytime I hear the story all told out you seem a bit more mad. Maybe we just didn’t see it at the time.

Come out for the anniversary and you can set us all straight again. I remember how good you were at putting us in our place when we got out of hand.

Your rooms are still waiting for you. Always will be.

 

Dwalin son of Fundin

 

 


	13. Bilbo - August 9, 2945

August 9th, 2945

Bilbo Baggins

Hobbiton

 

Dear Dwalin,

Thank you very kindly for the invitation, but I must decline. There’s just far too much to do here. You understand. I have too many unknowns at present: the harvest is about to start up and a dear cousin is being courted, and there’s a biannual fair in a few weeks that I’ve been looking forward to. I couldn’t come all the way to the Mountain without seeing where things settle with my cousin. Furthermore, I couldn’t possibly miss my birthday party here. There was enough of a fuss when I missed one, I would hate to think what would be said of me if I ran off again and denied them a second party.  

Beside that, it really is rather a long journey and you are well aware I am not a great traveller. It is just an anniversary. To tell the truth, I would rather not be reminded of all that, if you don’t mind. It was hardly an enjoyable time for me.

Now before you go telling me that missing a birthday party isn’t such a problem and I should come despite that, you need to understand what a birthday party is to a hobbit. The better part of the town comes together for it, and for a person of any note, a large portion of the Shire assembles. Anyone who is anything to the community uses the Party Tree, and we set up tables and tents and banners. There’s food and drink and dancing long into the night. And we give presents to everyone that attends. I’ve already started to buy presents for mine, all the way from Bree. I think I may finally win back the rest of the Shire.  

Do you know Dwalin, as I think about it more, I couldn’t possibly reach there before my birthday. I know that we had several delays when we travelled, but have you forgotten where the Shire is? Or the speed at which I travel given my preference? Unless the Eagles would be willing to fly me half the distance, it would be impossible. And as I have no way of contacting them and no inclination to repeat that experience, it is out of the question.

As for the acorns. Well, it’s nothing of import. Simply a conversation we had once. If you wish to, you can tell him that I planted it. But I think it died that first winter before I ever even got back to the Shire. It was planted in good soil, and I did take care of it as well as I could, but nothing ever came of it. It’s long dead now.

  
  


Bilbo Baggins

 

 


	14. Lobelia - September 3, 2945

September 3rd, 2945

Lobelia Sackville-Baggins

Hobbiton

Dear Bilbo,

I am astounded, Bilbo. Truly, I am. The whole of Hobbiton can see how improved your behavior is of late. But as I know you better than all the others, I feel it only right to tell you that it has been noticed. You’re no longer proving to be such a disgrace on the good name of Baggins, and I for one, couldn’t be any happier to see it. Since you were so rude as to return from that ridiculous adventure of yours after more than a year and insist on Otho and I moving back out, I know I have been a bit harsh on you. You understand why of course.

The next time you run off into the blue, do be good enough to let us know so we can move our things earlier. It was such a fuss to move our things twice in a fortnight.

At tea last week, I did notice that you have my Great-Aunt Aradelle’s tea pot hidden away in your spare room. It was left to Me, not to you Bilbo, and I have confirmed that with Aunt Delia. She told me that Aradelle always wanted me to have it since I first insisted she sit down to a tea party with me when I was barely more than a faunt. I will expect it returned to me by week’s end Master Baggins.

When I next come to tea, and you must set a date for it quickly as I am quite a bit busier than you are, I’ll also expect you to finally Explain Yourself. While your behavior is improved and it is quite pleasant not to feel like you’re dragging down the good cheer of the entire Farthing, you can’t continue to be so parsimonious with your story.

Adventures are trouble enough, but to not even tell us what happened is absurd! Why else did you go off like that except to come home and tell everyone the story? If you weren’t going to tell us, you shouldn’t have come back at all.

It must have been rather a miserable affair based on your state when you returned. Your garden still hasn’t recovered. I’m sure that you will find a way to tell us all what happened without being bleak and dreary, however. Additionally, there are several fine hobbits who live near to you who have a fine hand with all plants and gardens. Perhaps they’d be willing to assist you with that sad plot. Though, for Eru’s sake Bilbo, do be discreet about it if you have to resort to using a gardener. All those hideous gossips in Bywater would be only too happy to spread slander about the name of Baggins, and I won’t allow you to give them additional ammunition against us.

You are however, starting to fill in your clothes once more, which I am exceedingly grateful for. But not nearly enough. Come around to tea next Tuesday and I’ll make my mother’s lavender cakes with sugared roses. If you insist on waiting, you can bring me My tea pot then.

Otho and I look forward to your birthday party.

Lobelia Sackville-Baggins

 


	15. Dwalin - October 21, 2945

October 21st, 2945

Dwalin son of Fundin

Erebor

 

Dear Bilbo

It was a long shot I suppose. Just hoped you might. Let me tell you about the plans then since you aren’t going to be with us. There’s a monument that’s been carved by our best stone masons. It’s of Bard. I know, you’re thinking we must have lost our minds, but it’s not staying in Erebor. See? Not gone mad. We’re gifting the thing to Dale along with four tapestries that tell the full story. Probably the best work I’ve ever seen done.

Naturally when we get around to making tapestries for the Gallery of the Kings, they’ll have to be even better. You understand, we’ve got a reputation to uphold.

All that was actually the suggestion of the Lady Dís. She’s a good influence around here. She used to flit about to the other clans and strong arm them into line, but she’s back in Erebor now, and likely to stay until she clears up the problems here. She’s already chipping away at the worst of them. Just won’t take no for an answer. You’ll like her when you meet her one day. Stubborn as any of the Durins, but a bit more sense in her skull. She designed part of the tapestries and Ori did a big chunk of the rest. It’s a shame none of us ever saw Smaug sleeping. You were the only one. You’ll have to tell us if it’s right when you see it.

After the whole to do with presenting those, there’s an enormous feast planned. I mean that Bilbo, enormous. Even you would call it that. Us, the Men, and the elves have all been-- well, Balin’ll yell if I call it competing, so I’ll say ‘comparing’ cuisine and the success of our peoples. So now all of us are preparing enough food for everyone involved. We’ve been ordering extra caravans and stockpiling what we’ll need. It’ll be like nothing you’ve ever seen before I can guarantee that.

No idea what the elves’ll bring. Probably more leaves. The men know how to cook though, and there are a few families of cooks and bakers that returned to Dale when they heard it was safe again. One of them makes these puffy things filled with sweet cheese. If it wouldn’t cause an uproar to have a non-dwarrow living under the mountain, we’d have bribed him to come make them all day long by now. I wasn’t kidding about you impacting us with all that talk of food. Four years on and we probably spend as much on food as we do on everything else together.

Speaking of. Apparently ‘the Company’ is expected to look a certain way. Dori snuck into my chamber and stole all my old gear and had it replaced.

Don’t tell him, but I like it a lot more. Thorin said it made me look handsome. That’s a bald-faced lie if I ever heard one.

We never really had a chance to cook anything properly for you, so I don’t think you know how we prefer to eat. Mostly it’s just a lot. You’d approve of that. The other thing is that we spice everything. Not sure how you’d feel on that idea. Most of the elves we’ve been obligated to feed have damn near come apart trying not to react as their mouths burn.

We’ll make sure you have a whole pitcher of cream nearby, it’ll help take the edge off of the heat.

The next few days there’ll be tournaments and competition and a huge fair and market. That last part’ll happen inside Dale.

I don’t think there’s hardly any ale or wine in the region since it’s all sitting in the storage halls under the mountain right now. Hopefully no one starts a war by rambling on when they’re in their cups. You know how awfully honest folk get when they drink. You’ve seen how dwarves can drink. Men are certainly fond of it. And even if the only elf to come is his prancing highness, we’d need a full cask of wine just to keep him civil.

Should be what everyone rightly needs. These last years have been right busy trying to rebuild everything so fast, it’ll be good to let the mountain take a breath.

Do you remember in the dungeons when I told you about how the Company were all such fans of ale? Most of us had woken up under tables missing our things and with ringing heads more times than we can count. I know you remember that night on the Lake.

I’m just mentioning it because I don’t think a one of us has really let loose with drink since that night. We’ve had plenty of chances. Just, seems that all of us that got hit with the gold-sickness when we saw the treasury don’t have any interest in it.

Since you left so fast, I don’t think you understand what it was like under it. A bit like being drunk is the best way I know to say it. Coming out of it was just like a hangover. Splitting headache, sore muscles, weak stomach, the lot of it. The harder hit you were, the worse it was to come out of it.

Anyway, I don’t think any of us like to be reminded of that time.

Some more than others. We’ll see who decides to partake at the feast.

The acorns are the last day. Don’t know if the men will participate, but according to Kili the elves are going to insist on helping. Don’t think they trust us to do it properly. Hopefully by next year the mountain side’ll be covered in little sproutlings.

I wish you were here to tell the elves off for us.

There’ll be a seat saved for you during the feast, and your rooms saved for you as ever.

 

Loyally,

 

Dwalin

  

  
He says he hasn’t heard from you. Write to him Bilbo.

 


	16. Thorin - November 23, 2945

November 23rd, 2945

Thorin Oakenshield

Erebor

Master Baggins,

Today is the Memorial and the Anniversary of the Battle. It is pleasant to see that the efforts of these last years have begun to pay off. I have written to you before this. However, I never had the courage to send them to you. I don’t believe you would have read them if I did send them -- My actions against you were deplorable, and with each day that I failed to apologize to you, to thank you for your actions in protection of my kin, deepens my crimes.

I should have asked the wizard to find you, beg you to stay through the winter so I could make amends. But Bilbo, I had too little strength to face both what I had done to you and what was necessary for Erebor. I am ashamed that I placed Erebor above you. I am more ashamed that I know I would do so again.

I miss you Bilbo. Dwalin stands at my side and, just as you did for me, reminds me of the path I must follow. He and I have grown close these last months. For a time it was very difficult for me to face each day. It was not a return of the Dragon Sickness, have no fear of that. You do not know it, but it was your voice that led me out of that madness four years ago. It is yours still that keeps me from returning. Dwalin is the stone under my feet that gives me strength to face the day, and I do not know how I would survive without him, but Bilbo, you are the light of my life.

~~I love you.~~

~~I loved you~~

I love you.  I should have said such to you the moment I discovered it within myself. I should have told you every day after. First I thought any advance would be unwelcome. In Laketown I began to see, to think I saw something between us, but with the completion of our quest just beyond, and the wyrm’s state unknown, I had not wanted to burden you. After we took the mountain, in my weakness I succumbed to my grandfather’s madness. Even if I had found the sense to confess then, I would not have been worthy of you.

I love you. And that has not changed. I do not think it will in this lifetime.

Dwalin knows, I am certain, though I have never said as much to him. He is as astute at these things as his brother, though most would not expect it of him.  Of late I have been brought low; he helped me to stand straight once more. I do not mention this to garner your sympathy, I only hope to convey how deep my remorse for my actions runs. I have never owed any apology more than the one I owe to you. I have never been less worthy of forgiveness.

Master Baggins, I would take back my words at the Gate, I would take back my actions against you. I would take back every unkind word I have ever uttered or thought against you.  It is not enough, I know that. Words are hollow, we can easily write a lie and keep another unawares. I beg you not to doubt me in this. This apology is as sincere as any oath I have ever taken. Any boon or service you would claim from me or my line is yours. Simply ask and we will see it done.

 

It is later now, Bilbo. I meant to write this all at once and have it sent before my resolve could waver as it has so many times before, but the weather looked to turn, and we began the memorial ceremony early.

The feast is still loud in the halls of Erebor. It is pleasant to hear so much joy echoing beyond my door. You would have enjoyed the feast. Bombur outdid himself, and we certainly outdid the elves. The men gave a good show, though their fare was too simple to

I am delaying.

I know you have exchanged letters with Dwalin many times. I know that he has mentioned to you that you are forgiven and always welcome beneath the Mountain. I asked him this evening about something that has preyed on my mind for a long time. ~~I had hoped to hear othe~~ You have never asked after me. You have never written except in reply to Dwalin’s letters. None of the others have received a letter. I thought perhaps you wrote to them, and they kept such correspondence hidden from me. I believed that was only right.

This, though painful, makes clear that you do not wish to hear from us.

You are within your right to feel that way. I would give anything for you to feel differently. For you  ~~to be willing to~~     ~~to want to~~

Dwalin does not understand why I continue to write these letters if I do not send them. I never send them. It frustrates him each time he knows I have written, he somehow always knows I have, and he pushes me to send them. I cannot. I don’t know if I ever will. They comfort me, as if you are sitting here and I have told you all my secrets without having to see the disappointment and censure in your beautiful face. I write them for myself. I did intend to send this one when I began writing this morning. I always tell myself that I intend to. I know each time that I am lying. I don't have the strength for both.

I keep them all. Hidden, of course. Dwalin believes I have destroyed them all, but I keep them and I remember. It lets me believe I still have some part of you.

I love you.

  
**\--------UNSENT--------**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it should just be expected by now, lets be honest...


	17. Bilbo - April 9, 2946

April 9th, 2946

Bilbo Baggins

Hobbiton

 

Dear Dwalin,

I am so terribly sorry for the long delay. There was heavy early snow here and then a mistake in the delivery by the bounders. There is also a great deal of social life in the winter of the Shire. Parties to attend and meals and quiet evening games. Then of course I was taking care of my properties and things like that.

The memorial sounds like it will have been quite pleasant. It must be rather beneficial to have all of the races collaborating in such a way. Hobbits are not generally fans of heavily spiced foods, however, my mother had several fine recipes that would have set you reaching for cream to save you. What we hobbits do, we do with every drop of effort.  For all that we never do anything of importance, once we decide to do something, nothing will stand in our way. You’ll recall my ancestor charged a rank of Goblins? It is that sort of determination that sees us through.

The other reason it took me so long to reply, I took ill for a time. You see, I take a great many walks. Not walks as you know them but that is what the others here call them. Walks. In truth I am having adventures of my own. Small ones, hardly any danger, but enough to keep me from forgetting. There was an early melt in February, so I gathered up my pack and set off for the forests of Buckland.

It’s a lovely area, even in the winter, and was quite beautiful for the first day, I’d brought my best pipe, plenty of leaf, and a few distilled wines from Bree. They’re wonderful if you haven’t had anything like them before. It was a very pleasant party of one. The snowstorm that fell was hardly a terrible one, but I did not notice it coming in time. Awful business, snowstorms.

Quite luckily for me, a cousin of mine, one of the Brandybucks, had seen me walking past the day before and not seen me return. He mentioned it to another cousin. Drogo came and found me, but I was a bit unwell for a few weeks. Nothing to worry about, though. We hobbits look out for each other.

Thank you for telling me of the plans, they sound like a very pleasant event.

 

Bilbo Baggins

 

 

 


	18. Dwalin - Jun 3, 2946

June 3rd, 2946

Dwalin

Erebor

 

Dear Bilbo,

Do you remember that Elf lass that was always checking in on all of us in the dungeons? Captain of Thranduil’s guard? Red hair, too tall, and a good hand with her knives?

Kíli married her.

He married an Elf. An Elf, Bilbo.

A prince of the line of Durin, and he married an elf instead of a dwarrow.  The Mountain’s in an uproar. Our ambassador to the tree-shaggers says they are too. Kíli just snuck off while he was supposed to be negotiating a trade agreement with some men from the South and he and the lass exchanged gifts and vows and Mahal knows what else. But neither’s willing to budge about it being properly done, they kept it proper and lined up with tradition according to both races, so now we’ve gotta deal with the fall out. And there’ll be a lot of fall out. Never mind that there’s a couple dwarrow set to come to Erebor from the Blue Mountains in the hopes of one or both of them snagging a prince’s heart. Never mind that Thranduil is holding us accountable for it. Never mind that if Thorin acknowledges this, he’s gonna have to let an ELF live in Erebor. They’re happy, so they aren’t paying attention to anything else.

Fíli had some new bruises last week right before Kíli went and did this to us. He finally explained after Kíli came back that him and his brother had a bit of a spat, and agreed that if Kíli could beat him, Fíli had to keep his mouth shut. Well, I trained the both of them, and I don’t know if Fíli will ever admit it, but there’s just no way he lost that fight except on purpose.

Ach, it’s going to be loud around here for a few months.

Only person who isn’t raising a fuss over this is Dís. Whatever reason, she’s hardly batted an eye at the whole matter. Balin thinks she got the full story of Ravenhill out of one or the other of the boys, not the pared down version that’s in the chronicle. Matter of fact, she went and offered to serve as the elf’s second if anyone wants to object formally.

I forget you haven’t met Dís.

Bilbo, I wouldn’t be able to take her in a fight unless Mahal himself gave me some help. Not that Tauriel seems to need Dís’ axes. That Elf-lass has taken down four Lords already. If Kíli smiles any wider his face is going to fall off.

Right, it’s been a couple more days since I wrote all of that. I’ve been betrayed Bilbo. Kíli and Dís convinced Thorin to end all this nonsense before Tauriel has to fight the entire mountain. Which she could have done without hardly breaking a sweat. They decided the best way to do it was to have a very public challenge and fight so that when it was done, Thorin could say that it was finished and the marriage would stand or fall. That meant the challenge had to come from the royal family, Well, they determined that having the Prince or the King issue the challenge wasn’t in good taste, Dís is serving second, and Kíli certainly is out of the question. Can you guess who got chosen yet?

Before we stepped in the ring, I grabbed Kíli and told him that he owed me for taking a hit to my pride by losing this. Smart mouthed bastard just laughed and told me I should ‘do my best then’. Mahal wept, Bilbo, I did. I did my damndest to win.

I haven’t been put on my arse that fast and that hard in more than a century. Kíli’s still laughing. And now I’m honor bound to respect the marriage. Actually, since Thorin announced that I was serving as champion of the line of Durin, and so, all of Erebor, everyone has to respect it now. Don’t know how Kíli managed to finagle that bit of diplomacy, but it was neatly done.

Don’t you dare tell the others, but I think I like Tauriel more than Kíli right now.

We just got your letter off the ravens this morning. It got dropped off while my bruises and I were sitting here writing to you.

So how about you? Five years nearly gone now. You’re not still living alone in that house of yours are you? Have you settled down with some nice lad?

Sorry to hear you were unwell. You’re feeling better now?

We finally got all the debris cleared off the eastern terraces so we moved where your rooms are, but they’re still here waiting for you whenever you want them. These ones are better. They’ve got glass windows and a private terrace and their own baths with water up from the hot springs. Not the most spacious, and not the easiest to get to and from, but they’re bright, and we set them up like your home, near as we could remember. They’re here for you.

Dwalin

 


	19. Bilbo - August 22, 2946

August 22nd, 2946

Bilbo Baggins

Hobbiton

 

Dwalin,

Tell them congratulations for me please.

I must admit that I am hardly surprised at this from Kíli after the way he talked on and on about the elves. And, if I recollect correctly, Tauriel aided him in Laketown. Both of the boys told me about their mother many times, so while I am hardly glad to hear that you had to be in that position, I think it could have been worse if you had been made to fight her. I haven’t laughed that hard in quite a while. Thank you for telling me about it.

I am very happy for them. They must love each other very much to be willing to fight so hard for it.

As for myself: I most certainly have done nothing of the kind. I know you meant no offense by it, but really, such things  are-- well they’re simply not done in the Shire. Settling down, marriage, weddings, all of that is for the purpose of making more fauntlings. I understand that such things are done beyond our borders, and I'll pass no judgement on it, but here, where life is simple and proper, it is just not done. Goodness, the only thing worse would be to marry a man or an elf or a dwarf. Shire gossips would never recover from the offense of it.

I do hope the others are well. I imagine you would have mentioned if anyone else had handfasted or married or what have you. As you haven’t, they must all be getting along just as I expect.

There were six weddings here over Lithe. All four of the weddings in Hobbiton were under the party tree of course. They were all beautiful. Huge bouquets of flowers on the tables and petals thrown in the air. Dancing and music long into the night that I could hear as I fell asleep. Also, there are enough new fauntlings off their mothers’ aprons now running about the hill that I haven’t any idea what their names are. Fortunately, they all answer to the smell of fresh pie and cakes.

The rooms sound lovely. I didn’t know that there were rooms with windows or even outside access. Unfortunately, I simply cannot go all the way across Arda just to see some living quarters.

Please, give them all my best wishes.

 

Bilbo

****  
  



	20. Dwalin - October 19, 2946

October 19th, 2946

Dwalin

Erebor

 

Dear Bilbo,

I hope you’re doing well. You’re not still sick are you? You’ve got someone there taking care of you? You haven’t gotten too confident in yourself out in the wilds after travelling with us lot did you? Pretty sure we taught you better than wandering off alone.

I didn’t mean to imply any kind of offense Bilbo. Really, I mean that. I didn’t know that Hobbits didn’t approve of two lads settling down. Though, come to think of it, I saw how many lasses were running around the Shire, and it was pretty obvious you all have a fondness for little ones. So I hope you’ll forgive the mistake. ~~Without making it worse, I had just thought~~ ~~XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX~~ \-- well, never mind what I thought I was seeing back then. I was wrong. Again, you’ve got my apologies.

I mean that, Bilbo. I’d never mean to upset you.

There’s a couple lasses visiting from the Blue Mountains that spend most of their time chasing Fíli around the city, hoping they’ll be queen one day. He spends as much time hiding as he can, but they know his duty schedule, so it rarely works. Kíli and Tauriel are settling in nicely. My bruised ego is finally falling out of fashion to snicker at, which I’m glad for. The two of them keep reminding us all that Erebor is taking to their marriage a lot better than the elves. Who would have thought it?

The elves aren’t smart enough to just fight it out, so the lad has been dragged off to Dale again and again to meet with representatives from Thranduil. Tauriel -- and don't you dare tell her this -- is the best elf I’ve ever met. She’s out-fought the objectors and then she drank with the best of us while Kíli told tales until everyone started to love her as much as Kíli does. They’ve turned around every last one of us.

Dís is a force to be reckoned with in council, and has turned around more unwanted contracts and treaties than I can count. If we ever need someone to cover for Thorin, she’s the dwarf for the job, not a mouth in the mountain would wag while she was in command.

Thorin still mouths off about me letting Tauriel win just so Kíli would like me best, and I can’t decide if it’s better or worse that he thinks I threw the fight. On the one hand, he might just like his little jokes. On the other, he tends to make them while we’re sparring, and then one or both of us has to go visit Óin.

Just about the whole of the mountain is repaired and restored now and even though it's not got the population it did, everyone that remembers says it’s getting to where it used to be. Balin’s giddy over it. We’re doing another memorial and feast this November since It’ll have been five years. Everyone is coming again.

Since lads aren’t to your taste, have you met some fine lass? Going to have a litter of younguns running around your feet soon? You’ve got wealth and wit and glory Bilbo, anyone and everyone should be throwing themselves at you.

The Elves in Rivendell hired a group of dwarves from Erebor to come assist with something or other, I wasn’t paying much attention during the council, but that’s not the point. They’re travelling in the spring.  I’d be happy to join up with them. Wouldn’t be hard to come over to the Shire. If you wouldn’t mind me eating all the baked things in your house that is.  I could keep you out of trouble for the summer.

Here’s hoping you’re very happy, and that the Shire today is everything you wanted while we kept you away from it.

 

Your friend,

Dwalin

 

 


	21. Bilbo - February 19, 2947

February 19th, 2947

Bilbo Baggins

Hobbiton

Dear Dwalin,

It’s funny you should mention that Dwalin, I’ve a surprise for you.

First, regarding this visit. There is absolutely no need for it. I am perfectly well here. The Shire is, as you said, everything I want. While I was willing to run off into the blue with the Company and spend some seven months with you all, Hobbiton is not a particular fan of dwarves. It would be terribly upsetting for everyone if you were to come through and visit let alone stay through the summer.

There used to be a dwarven blacksmith, but it made everyone rather uncomfortable. Now, I know that the stories about dwarves aren’t true, but you don’t want to be subjected to Hobbiton slander.

Now then, that surprise. I didn’t want to say anything about it to you and spoil my luck, but I have met an excellent lass. Over the Yule festival we got engaged. We’ll be getting married in the summer, when the zinnias are brightest.

Her name is Hyacinth. She has the most stunning pale gold curls and I’ve never seen prettier brown eyes. She’s also got a very sweet mild temper and keeps the rest of town from noticing when I slip out insults as I sip at my tea. Her family is from Buckland (which is another area of the Shire) but I knew her as a younger hobbit and saw her again when she was visiting Hobbiton a few years ago.

Since then she and I have been growing much closer. Teas and meals and long walks in the woods together. If I ever manage to draw her as beautifully on a page as she is in life, I’ll send it along to you.

I couldn’t possibly be happier, Dwalin. It’s wonderful to hear someone else’s feet in the hall, and she’s a better cook than I am. Though, I can out bake her any day of the week. She loves to hear about my adventures and has even gone on some of my walks with me. Cynthia claims that she has no fear of anything in the wild, but we’ve not gone on overnight trips yet. Propriety, first of all, and second of all, I don’t think she would like to be out in the dark if we heard a wolf howling.

She’s proper and polite and delightful and domestic. About as far from all of you as she could be. I don’t think I could love her any more without falling to pieces. It’s quite entirely your fault that I asked her to marry. If Kíli could manage it, I am sure I can as well.

It is very polite of you to offer to come and stay, but I truly think your presence would do more harm than good. Hyacinthe in particular would prefer you not, and I am inclined to agree with her. She isn’t such an adventurer herself no matter how many books she reads. I do believe she would be quite terrified of you, so I’ll have to reject your offer to visit. Perhaps another time.

I’m glad to hear everyone there is doing well. I doubt Fíli will ever be inclined to let them catch him, but do let me know if one succeeds.

Other than that news, life here continues exactly as it always has. I’ve been doing some planning for the wedding of course, and preparing Bag End. It would all be rather dull to you. Only thing you might be interested in is my knives. I know you always despaired of my care of blades.

I took my kitchen knives to the smith in Bree a few weeks back to be sharpened. I’ve just gotten them back by courier today. It wouldn’t do to get married and bring her home to a poorly established kitchen after all. So I packed up my entire set and sent them all the way to the good smith in across the water. Before I couldn’t even cut through a tomato without ripping up the skin and making a mess of it all. They’re much better now. He did a wonderful job. I know, dwarves could do it better, but I have to settle for what’s here. I think you might even approve of them. Cut right through whatever I need without so much bother and effort. Wouldn’t do to damage my fine tomatoes, would it?

So see? All’s as well as it could ever be here.

You stay in your home, and I’ll stay in mine. Everyone where they’re meant to be.

 

Bilbo Baggins

 

  
Oh, I nearly forgot, let Thorin know that I’ll be sending along a package with the next caravan to pass by. It’s not as if I need or want mithril anymore, and I’d rather not have it anywhere near me. Shouldn’t have taken the silly thing in the first place.

 

 


	22. Dwalin - April 19, 2947

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuz is on hover and a word bank at the end!

April 19th, 2947

Dwalin

Erebor

 

Damn you. Damn you. Damn you. Damn you Hobbit. I don't know if you didn’t know or you didn’t care, or if that mess over the arkenstone just ruined what there was between the two of you, but faslêk akhbûb, Bilbo, you don’t know what you’ve done to him. I had to tell him. I had to grab him after a meal and drag him off somewhere and tell him. And I had to watch it undo all the work he has done to put himself back together. Thorin has tried so damn hard. You don’t know. You aren’t here. You don’t know what it’s been like for him. How much he has hurt. ~~How he close to~~     ~~what we had to see~~     ~~the things that he~~     ~~the way~~

He has been burying himself under the restoration so he doesn’t have to think about you being gone. He doesn’t know how to handle it. He thinks you’re happy there. But he thought that

I had to tell him. Had to. Wish I coulda kept it secret. But faslak, If that damn mithril showed up and some guard just passed it on to him? It would have. I don’t even know Bilbo, I think it might have killed him. Do you not know what that gift meant? What he was trying to say to you -- in the midst of gold sickness he gave that to you. You don’t even care.

And I had to tell him. I’m never going to forgive you for that.

Took half a day just to get him talking and then it was all in khuzdul. Then the two of us went down to spar since I couldn’t see him getting the anger out any other way. Damn fool move and I know it but he was we were both so mad at each other and at You. I’ve got fresh stitches down my leg and he’s got a bruised face and a gash across his arm. Dís stepped in and ended it or we would have done a lot worse than that. It was a fool thought but we were fit to blow.

Did you never notice it in him? He’s been in love with you almost since you opened your damned door, not that he knew it, fool that he is. For sure since you ran after us and joined a quest you had no business taking part in, and for all your bitching and moaning about it all, you kept going. You should have turned back a dozen times before we reached the mountains, and you kept coming anyway. I don’t know how you survived or why you kept saving us since you obviously don’t care about us at all.

How did you never notice the way he looks at you? The way he smiled? The way he listened to you and leaned on you for support. He doesn’t do that. He doesn’t trust like that. He doesn’t open up to just anyone. He’s not that open. Ever. He’s been hurt too many times and he’s lost too many people. He’s lost everyone he cares about.

I know what I saw Bilbo. I know what you felt. Are hobbits that fickle? Dwarves aren’t. We don’t just stop loving someone. So either you’re fickle or you never cared at all. Is this why it takes you so long to write back? You don’t care about ~~us~~ ~~him~~ ~~me~~ us? You’re just following your precious little hobbit manners?

Or are you lying? 

Did you make this up and now you’re trying to keep us away? It’ll work. All you had to do would have been to ask me not to. I’d have listened. I’ve been worried about you you little idiot. I was packed and set to go. But if you’re acting like this, I guess you’re doing fine. I thought you needed me. Was I wrong about that? Do you you hate ~~us~~ me? I can tell you hate Thorin.

He’s never written to you because he can’t stand the thought that he’ll lose you too. And now he lost you anyway. He’s not saying it, won’t say it, but he thought you’d come back. He did. And now he’s--- This whole time, he’s thought you’d come back to us one day. That he'd get to fix it. Dammit Bilbo. He thought that it was damaged, he didn’t know that you were never coming back.

Now he’s just raw again.

Do you think I just write to everyone as often as I get a reply? Do you think I write to just everyone? You don’t have any idea. None Bilbo. ~~It’s not just Thorin that~~

Binakrâg sharbrugn. binamrâl dash uhranith

You didn’t even have the guts to write to him yourself. You went and made me do it for you. I’ll not forget that. You made me hurt him. I guess I thought this whole time that you were something you’re not.

I guess I never really knew you.

It's good that I’m here for him since you aren’t. I don’t think you ever really were.

 

 

 

**\--------BURNT--------**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are AMAZING. The response is just overwhelming! You're analyzing and looking up flower meanings and it's so so so cool! THANK YOU. 
> 
>  
> 
> Khuzdul  
> faslak : fuck  
> faslêk akhbûb : fucking forges  
> Binakrâg sharbrugn : Honorless Halfling  
> binamrâl dash uhranith : Loveless cruel little liar


	23. Dwalin - July 17, 2947

July 17th, 2947

Dwalin

Erebor

Bilbo

Congratulations! Was a bit shocked by it to be honest, but it’s great. Almost didn't think it was real at first, but I guess you've better at keeping secrets than I thought. It's nice to hear you’re finally settling into the life you wanted. Everyone here hopes that it’s everything you wanted it to be. By now you must be married already. Don’t know what a zinnia is, but the flower market in Dale is enormous right now, so I guess most flowers are blooming now. Bifur wants to know if he can send things for any little ones when they come. You know dwarves don’t have so many children as hobbits do, so we’re all rather fond of them. Bifur makes the best toys you’ll ever see. He modelled all the Company, right down to joints and weapons. He paints my tattoos on that one’s head.

There’s even one of you. It’s very popular.

So just let him know and which ones you want and he’ll get them shipped off with the next caravan going West. And it should be pretty obvious I didn't come over with that group. 

Suppose I should probably mention this. I didn’t know what your reaction would be, so I hadn’t before. I guess I’ve got a solid answer on that now -- Not that I’m trying to imply anything about you that might be an insult to you -- Me and Thorin have been together since a bit before Kili and Tauriel got married. He was still recovering, and needed someone to lean on, in more ways than one, and it ended up being me. I’m glad for it, he’s been my best friend for longer than you’ve been alive. We’ll be getting married ourselves soon enough.

Suppose I should update you on the goings on here. The Mountain is opening up a new mine shaft. According to Bofur, now that we have a full population again, not as full as it was, but getting there, we can go after some of the deposits that are marked on the old maps. There’s plenty of wealth down there that we thought was out of reach. Plenty of new opportunities that we’re going after now we're not having to worry about the ceiling caving in on us or where we'll order grain from.

It should really help the mountain. Give it something new to focus on since the rebuilding is done and there’s a couple of shafts that aren’t ever going to be usable again. Bofur thinks there’s something great hidden down there, and he always had better stone sense than the rest of us together, so we trust him on it. I'll let you know if we find anything incredible.

I hope your wife is doing well. Ori wants to know if her name is Hyacinth or Hyacinthe, he’s adding her to the bits at the end of the chronicle. I’m glad we at least taught you to take better care of your blades, you always were awful about maintaining yours. But try and remember you had them sharpened, will you? Otherwise you’ll end up hurting yourself. Don’t want that to happen.

Congratulations. To both of you.

Dwalin

  
Haven’t seen the mithril yet. Which caravan did you send it with?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore you all. Every single one. Every single comment. It's totally surreal, but I love it.


	24. Bilbo - February 27, 2948

February 27th, 2948

Bilbo Baggins 

Hobbiton

 

Dear Dwalin,

The snows are finally melting, so I’ll get to send this tomorrow. Its lovely to see the weather turning. Winter was rather long and harsh, and it will be nice when things start growing again. It will be nice to see everything bright and alive and vibrant. Not that I expect you to understand the way we love flowers and plants and trees. No, I know that you all have your great love for rocks and stone, but it simply-- I don’t suppose anything under the mountain could ever make me as happy as the flowers of spring in the Shire does.

I hope you had a mild winter and an early thaw as well.  

Congratulations, to the both of you, by the way.

Hyacinthe (Please tell Ori with an E) tells me I’m having a child. I think she’s just looking to claim the last of the cream scones every day. No, no. I’m only joking. She’s well along and quite healthy. The little one should be here this summer. A bit old to be a father, but, hardly the oldest the Shire has seen. I didn’t realize this was even something I wanted until I heard. Now it’s all I can think about.

You’ve no idea how nice it is to sit with someone in comfort and happiness and just be content. We have quiet evenings by the fire, reading and laughing and telling stories, and it is everything I could hope to have, and I daresay, everything I deserve after what I’ve done in the rest of my life. We’ve laid down quite a few bottles of good wine to age in the cellars. My father used to do the same whenever there was a good year, though, I must admit I’ve long since drank everything he laid down at my birth. He and my mother would be glad to see the tradition continue.

Speaking of, if the child is a daughter, I expect to name her Belladonna after my dear mother. If she has half the spirit for adventure as her namesake, she’ll surely run off into the blue one day on and do far more than I ever did.

I don’t expect I’ll have much time to write as this gets closer. My wife needs my attention, and I’m sure once the child arrives I’ll be quite busy. You are of course welcome to continue writing, but please understand if you don’t hear back.

Bilbo Baggins

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Six More.   
> I am very excited. But then... I know what happens next.


	25. Dwalin - April 26th, 2948

April 26th, 2948

Dwalin

Erebor

 

Bilbo

That’s wonderful news to hear. Children are always a blessing. Make sure you take care of yourself as well as your family. We aren't there to take care of you, so I hope those hobbits are keeping an eye on you.

You know it was seven years ago I showed up at your door and stole your dinner? We'll be having a party tonight for the Company. We do every year, matter of fact. Just a little gathering with all the food we can load onto a table. Lot of laughing and singing and stories. Most of the time we just talk about the quest and how lucky any of us are to be alive. The memorials in the fall for the anniversary are always pretty quiet. Lots of memories and loss to honor. But today's the anniversary of the start. You were the start of it you know. That whole mess of a quest started with your little house in the Shire. And we couldn’t have done it without you.

Wanted to let you know, there's a meeting of the dwarf lords in the west in a few months. Thorin and I ought to be leaving at first light. We'll be passing by the Shire on our way. With your say so we'd like to stop by and check in on you. Meet your lady, maybe even see the wee one if they've come. We won't impose on you though. No need to feed or house us, and we can be on our way right after.

Just want to check on you.

But we're going to be nearby, you wouldn't let us just walk away would you? The meeting is in the fall, but we’re travelling early. I know we won’t get a reply from you before we show up, but I’m hoping that -----

 

_“Dwalin?”_

_“Aye, Thorin, I’m writin’ to him, and I don’t wanna hear about it. I’ll drag you into the Shire by your braids if I have to. We need to make sure he’s doin’ as fine as it seems like. I need to be sure of it. I’m just sending this outta courtesy so he’ll be a wee bit less shocked at us on his doorstep this time and I don’t--”_

_“Dwalin.”_

_“Husband, you just gotta -- Mahal, Thorin! What is it? What’s happened? Someone hurt? The lads? They alright? Dís? One of the Company? What happened? Are you alright?”_

_“Something was just… it was found on a… Dwalin. I have received a letter. From Mister Baggins.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /flees.


	26. Scene - Erebor - April 26, 2948

April 26th 2948

Erebor

 

“I’ll know what it means.” Dwalin echoed, setting the letter on the table again. It was crumpled and stained, the writing somewhat smudged, the posting on the outside nearly faded away. Three years late, but the letter had arrived. He wanted to hit something. Kill something. Someone. Except that there was no one at fault. There was no guilt. No malicious intent that had kept this letter from them.

They had never had another go missing. Not once. Dwalin was struggling to wrap his head around the cruelty that it had happened to this one.

The rider carrying it had literally fallen in the mountains and had not been found in the ravine for months. Then the letter, difficult to read, had sat in a ranger’s bag for more than a year before anyone tried to deliver it. It was a miracle that they had received it at all.

Dwalin looked at his husband. Thorin was ashen and dead eyed as he smoothed the envelope on the table again and again.

Maybe better to call it a curse.

“Thorin,” he said gently, “ya can’t blame yourself for this.”

He glanced up, and didn’t have to say a word. As much as Dwalin had bothered Bilbo to write, he’d given twice as much to Thorin. If he ever had, their hobbit would have known. He might have come back. Would have come back. He wouldn’t have married that hobbit, wouldn’t be waiting for a wee one to arrive. Bilbo would have been in the Mountain. He would be with them. With Thorin. Where he had wanted to be, but believed he was not welcome.

Cold and wrenching, his stomach rolled. Dwalin could have been direct. Should have just told Bilbo outright about Thorin wanting him to return. Not wanting to scare him away, he’d kept quiet. And made it worse. Dwalin wasn’t going to think about the little whisper saying that he’d done it out of greed. 

Thorin picked up the most recent of Bilbo’s letters, staring at the signature as much as the words above it. It was the only other letter he had touched. The others sat in a tidy arc, dates marked on the edge.

“He believes I hate him. That I never forgave him for the Arkenstone-- for saving our lives. Dwalin, of course, I blame myself. If I had written -- sent what I had written, he could have known before we drove him to his decision.” He smiled joylessly, “I blame myself because I am responsible for it, Dwalin. I have not lacked for opportunity. You know why I pressed for the Raven stations to be reestablished so quickly. You know what I have felt these years, but I did not have the courage to contact him.  

“He was always unstoppable once his mind was made up. He has moved on with his life. As promised. I hope that he is happy with his marriage. I hope his child brings him the joy that we - I …. _we_ have denied him.”

“Don’t go doing this to yerself, Thorin. If yer responsible, so am I.”

Meticulously, Thorin sifted through a few closed letters and stared at the dates. “He writes less often now. He would rather we not contact him, that much is clear. He has been pulling back since he sent that to me and I failed to reply. We should respect his wishes and allow him this at least to go as he would desire.”

His husband had not looked like this in years. Even telling him about the mithril hadn’t been this bad. Not that it had ever arrived. He had not looked like this since Dwalin had called for Dis and the pair of them had started chipping away at his distress. It had taken months to get Thorin to admit there was anything wrong. Months more to get him talking about it. He’d been so closed off and isolated Dwalin hadn’t been sure that he’d find his friend in there again.

Once he did, and it was Dwalin that had broken down the last of it, he’d been vulnerable in a way that hurt just to remember. Thorin’s confidence and indomitable will had been a foundation of who he was his entire life. Seeing him stripped of that, questioning himself, it was no wonder Dwalin had immediately known he needed someone to lean on. Dwalin could do that. And he had. While Thorin had slowly acknowledged that something had broken, and that he was clinging to an act, had been for decades, Dwalin had stood beside him, and taken some of the weight.

Now, as he watched, he could see Thorin bracing up a false strength so he could hide behind it.

Cuffing him on the shoulder earned little more than a clenched jaw.

“Don’t go doing that again, Thorin. Ya can feel awful for it. We both should. We can go spar til we’re covered in bruises. We can smoke half a barrel before dinner. Ya can go down to your forge and hammer flat every bit of iron in the mountain. We can do whatever you please, but don’t do -- _that_. Don’t pretend you aren’t hurting. Won’t help him. And ya know it won’t help you.”

“I’m not trying to help me.”

“Thorin…” he warned.

“No. No. I will not endanger his happiness just to mollify my guilt. You know that had I received this when it was meant to--”

“He’d be sitting here with you instead of me.” Dwalin ignored that twinge of ice in his chest.

“No,” Thorin smiled sadly, “he would be in the kitchens. He would surely insist on cooking for the party this evening. Probably try to trick us all into eating leaves and greens like a bunch of elves.”

“Aye, that’s a truth isn’t it…” he chuckled, “But ya know I’m right. It woulda been him.”

The silence that followed was probably kinder than hearing it said. Bilbo had the right of that. Stupid, thoughtless request, but it did hurt less. Dwalin leaned back into the long couch, eyes fixed on the letters in front of him. He had known how Thorin felt. He had known how Bilbo felt. He had seen it start seven years ago to the day.

“Maybe the fairy stories are true after all,” he tried to joke. It just sounded bitter, “Maybe Mahal really does give us a One, and the two of you are supposed to be together. You oughta go see.”

Thorin fisted his hand in the fabric of Dwalin’s tunic, eyes shut, jaw clenched. If he didn’t know Thorin better than he knew himself, he would have seen the tremoring as suppressed tears. It just wasn’t like him. It was self-reproach and guilt and anger battling each other, and long before one of them was victorious, his husband would be shredded by his own accusations.

“Thorin, I’m not gonna be mad at ya for wanting to be happy. If you go and you find him and you tell him all this, maybe you can be. Balin can sort out what’s between us. Ending it. Erebor’s got more’n enough gold to provide his lady.” There wasn’t any point dancing around what needed to be said. “I know I wasn’t yer first choice. Doesn’t mean I love ya any less. Never will. But you ought to go and find him. See if maybe you can have what ya really want.”

Thorin finally moved. His eyes snapped open and his hand tightened, “You are not a second choice. You never were. I would not love you, I would not have married you if you were, kurduthiklulê. If I had received this then, I … I do not know what I would have done. It would have arrived that fall when I was -- I do not know! And it matters not! I did not receive it then, but I have now. I cannot change what has happened.

“I do not know how I could choose. I suppose it is fortunate that he has wed. I will not have to face that decision. I know that you and he -- I have not spoken to him in six and a half years, Dwalin. The last words I spoke were beyond cruelty and lies. Added to this unwitting rejection, there is little chance he would even speak to me. You though, before he told us of his marriage, before we decided that we would wed, I had thought that you and he -- that perhaps --” Dwalin ducked closer and kissed him fiercely. A quick reminder.

Thorin exhaled slowly after, firming his resolve with their foreheads pressed together. This wasn’t the falsity of a moment before, but the dwarf he would follow across the earth, seeing what lay before him and concluding what needed to be done.

“Do ya want to read the other letters he sent?” Thorin had read the most recent, and been unable to open another.

“He is well. He did promise he would do this, and he has.”

“He said he was unwelcome in the Shire.”

“And now he has married.”

“To someone he doesn’t want, Thorin!”

“But he married them all the same.”

They sat in pained silence until Dwalin finally asked. “What if he’s not married?”

“Bilbo wouldn’t lie.”

“And ya don’t want to read the letters yer ownself?”

“No. I don’t believe reading them now would be well advised. Bring them with us. We travel West in the morning. If we make good time we can stop by the Shire before the meeting at summer’s end. I would like to know that he is well. To see that.  We can bring gifts for the child.”

“What do you plan to say to him?”

“I have four months of travel to come up with something. Surely by then I’ll have drafted a speech appropriate to convey all of this.” He grinned weakly. By the grip of his hands, he was holding himself up only by the loan of Dwalin’s strength.

“You don’t have any idea, do ya?”

Thorin’s shadow of a smile faded.

“None.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's this? a scene? not a letter? weird... Not that I think you'll object. :P
> 
>  
> 
> kurduthikulê : My Steel Heart


	27. Scene - Hobbiton - August 18, 2948

August 18th, 2948

Hobbiton

 

 

Hobbiton was brighter than any place had the right to be. Flowers and plants and trees were the start of it. They covered nearly everything, and if the colors were a bit muted for being late in the season, Dwalin couldn’t tell. Then there were the buildings, well, doors. Yellow and green and red standing out against the hills. And then, to top it off, were the hobbits themselves. Every last one of them was a riot of curly hair and bright clothing.

The Shire and Erebor hadn’t a thing in common. Couldn’t have looked more different. For far from the first time since he and Thorin had ridden out of the Mountain, he reminded himself that they were only coming to check in on Bilbo. They were going to stop by for a few hours, ensure that he was as well as his letters sounded, and they were going to ride back to the guard they’d left in Bree.

He had never sent that letter telling him they were coming. They had spent a few hours trying to find the words, but never managed it. Then there had been the party, and the two of them pretending everything was fine since explaining it to the rest of the Company would have meant they’d all have been marching along with them. Which would have done no good. Then it was dawn and they had to depart.

Four months, and Dwalin could only hope that their unexpected arrival would be forgiven.

They rounded the last hill on their ponies, Thorin frowning slightly that he had in fact been wrong about the direction to take at the last fork.

“Looks like his garden’s doing a lot better now.” Dwalin smiled.

“How would you know?”

“It looks like the others.”

“I’ll ask again then, how would you know? Do I need to remind you of the incident with the stinging nettles?”

Thorin was trying to sound normal, and doing a terrible job of it. He’d never read the other letters. Even when Dwalin threatened to read them aloud.

Dwalin glared half-heartedly as he tied his mount to a fence. They’d agreed it would be best if Dwalin went to the door first. Partly because their hobbit didn’t understand why they were there, Thorin in particular. And partly because after four months of trying, Thorin still didn’t have the words.

The gate squeaked awfully when Dwalin swung it open, but the garden was neat and tidy. A riot of various flowers he couldn’t have named if his life depended on it. But they looked exuberantly healthy. It was nice to see since Bilbo had mentioned having trouble with his garden when they first started writing to each other. Of course, that hadn’t been mentioned in years now, so whatever it was must have settled itself.

Thorin waited beyond the gate, a bit too still to seem comfortable, but doing better than Dwalin had feared.

Most of the trip had found the pair of them at the head of the group, talking through the days. For a trip they had been looking forward to for nearly a year, it had been miserable. Easy, only one party of goblins, but miserable all the same. The cloud that had followed Thorin was still above him, and he was convinced, Dwalin knew, that Bilbo would send them away without a second glance. Without letting Thorin talk.

One deep breath to steady himself, and Dwalin knocked soundly on the door. He heard something fall on the other side. Heard footsteps.

Waited.

Glanced at Thorin’s thin facade.

Knocked again.

Harder this time.

He thought he heard something closing but couldn’t be sure.

A drop of something sharp rolled through his chest, leaving ice behind it.

“Dwalin.” Thorin’s voice was rough, though he managed to keep it from breaking.

“Once more.”

“He’s not going to answer for you, _dwarves_.” Dwalin spun to find the speaker in a yellow frock and alarmingly tall hat. She looked fairly well disgusted with the pair of them. It was a look that seemed too comfortable on her face to be a rarity. “So don’t waste your time. If Mister Baggins wanted to talk to dwarves again, he’d have opened it already. So you can just be on your way out of the Shire. Go on!”

“Is that so, Miss...?”

“Miss none-of-your-business, _dwarf_.” Thorin motioned for Dwalin to let the insult slide, “None of us want anything to do with dwarves!”

“And why is that, Miss?” Thorin asked with a tone Dwalin recognized from negotiations with the Mirkwood elves.

“After the horrid affair with the last group? Ugh, terrible business, dragging him off like that! And the way he came back? He was hardly even a hobbit, I’ll have you know. No. No one in that house, or anywhere else in the Shire would want anything to do with you. We knew before what comes of dealing with dwarves. And then we had to see what your kind did to him! Now he knows it too. You’ve no idea. None of them ever bothered to visit him, that was left entirely to us -- To _me_ all by myself to try and fix him, since the others gave up. So don’t think you can come here now and drag him off again! I won’t allow it! Leave him alone. Leave all of us alone. Hobbiton wants nothing to do with you. Good day!”

She turned and marched down the hill.

Miserable hobbit. She reminded Dwalin of some of Bilbo’s stories from the dungeons. Maybe it was even the same lass. Sounded rude enough.

He crossed the short garden back to the door, hand raised to knock once more.

“Don’t. Leave him be.”

“Thorin, there’s no harm in knockin again. You need -- we want to get to talk with him.”

“He clearly feels differently Dwalin, and I’ll not impose upon him. Come, it looks like it may rain, and I believe I recall where there is a tavern.” He was already untying their ponies. Like a hook in his gut, Dwalin could feel himself pulled two ways. His hand had fallen to rest against the green painted wood, but his eyes were on his husband. Much as he shouted inside that they owed it to their hobbit to stand outside his door in the rain until they could apologize properly and guarantee he was well, he could not step away from Thorin.

Not when he looked like that.

Four months of effort building his best friend back up, helping him find his feet after damn near crumbling in April, and it was undone by a door that failed to open. It would be another half a year gone before Thorin would stop getting lost in his self recriminations every time something went wrong in the mountain.

He’d known there was a chance of this. The chance that Bilbo wouldn’t want to see them, wouldn’t let them in to talk. But Dwalin had been confident of the opposite.

They must have made him angrier than he’d thought.

His breath fell out of him in a short burst, but he walked away from the door, and the silence behind it.

 

* * *

 

The Green Dragon must have been the only place to shelter from the rain that also served a drink or a meal. It seemed like half the hobbits in the area were crammed into the room, all jabbering and gossiping about crops and who kissed who behind a hedge.

Rustic nonsense. And the sooner Dwalin could get Thorin out of there the better.

As soon as the rain lightened.

It was falling in sheets, a blinding torrent that neither of them were inclined to slog through. Heavy enough to drive everyone inside, which meant it couldn’t last all that long. They’d finish their meal, be on their way, and if Dwalin had his way, he’d make sure not a word about the Shire, hobbits, or Bilbo Baggins was ever uttered near his husband again. It would probably take cashing in every favor the company owed him to keep them silent, but he’d find a way to explain why they had to drop the stories of the quest from their usual repertoire without detailing this whole mess.

Ori could help with that. He’d written up the battle, as well as a new edition of the fall of Khazad-dûm. There were some talking about making a push to reclaim another homeland, and hearing that bit of prose sung in the great halls would help raise that dream to a furor.

Whatever it took.

Dwalin finished the meal. He hadn’t noticed what he’d eaten. Lucky that hobbits had no ill will for them, or even knew who they were.

Thorin’s was almost gone as well.  He'd eaten it with a mechanical rigidity that made it clear he hadn't tasted a bite of it.

"So there's dwarves about again.”

“Wonder what they want, don't look like the normal lot."

Dwalin scowled at the voices behind his back. Bebuggered gossiping hobbits.

"Probably here to see Baggins."

"Not like he hardly sees anyone else."

Thorin's eyes narrowed as he tilted to see around Dwalin and watch the hobbits talk.

"Maybe they're just dropping off mail."

"Or for trade."

"No need for either I say. Nothing a dwarf can do we can't do better!"

There was some general cheering at that.

"Shame about Baggins though. All that trouble with dwarves, and now look at him?"

"Oh aye, poor Mad Baggins up on the hill."

"Least he’s got a garden now.”

“He got a gardener you mean. Hamfast has a good hand. He got that mess turned right around. We'd have had to talk to the Thain if it went on much longer. All those weeds!"

"And it was just so wilted!"

"Did he even manage a harvest before Hamfast started with him?"

"Not that I ever heard tell of."

"Not since he got back at least."

"Well that's not true. He grew a bit in '43. Still was buying half his stock in the market though."

"Terrible business."

“Shame about his tomatoes.”

"Awful shame. They were some of the best."

“Sad to see a Baggins unable to garden. And who would have thought it from him?”

“You know what they’re saying o’course? Woulda been better if he’d not come back.”

The creaking sound of protesting wood brought Dwalin’s attention back to his own table. He released his grip on the edge of it. Thorin was frozen, staring so intensely it was a wonder the hobbits hadn’t noticed.

“Leastways Bag End wouldn’t be in such a state. He ought to have married one of them Took lasses and gone back to his mother’s people. They’d have forgiven all this nonsense with adventures.”

“There’d be younguns running about the Hill then.”

“Whatever happened there? With that lass? She’s a sweet one.”

“Oh aye, an’ it lasted all of a season didn’t?”

“Aye, true.”

“Best if it just finished up. We all know what’s coming.”

“Nothing ta be done by us for it now.”

“Aye, we’ve done tried an’ he didn’t want a bit of it.”

“Lobelia keeps on bothering him. Wants the good dishes after, most like.”

“None of the rest of us though.”

“An’ we wouldn’t have to hear about it from the ladies every week after the market meetings once it’s done.They do like to go on don’t they?”

“Oh like a bunch birds in the morning, on and on about Mister Mad Baggins and his broken heart.”

“Not right to see Bad End so empty.”

“My Nell says some of the ladies think it’ll not be much longer anymore.”

“Aye, sad, but can’t hardly stop it now.”

“No, no. He’s made his choice.”

“A Smial that nice won’t stay empty long afterwards.”

“Not that the Sackvilles are any better if you’re asking me.”

“Did you hear Otho’s putting up a fuss about their new rugs not being done proper?”

“Again?”

“Oh aye.”

The hobbits strayed to talk of curtains and furniture.

There was a lump he couldn’t budge in his throat. A brutal weight in his gut. A tight coil where his heart normally was. None of that made any sense. Bilbo was mad at them, had every reason to be, but, he was married. Had a brand new little one to fawn over.

Unless the birth had claimed them both?

But not even hobbits would talk like that about something so awful.

But Bilbo wouldn’t have lied.

“This don’t make sense. I don’t understand, Thorin.”

His husband couldn’t meet his eye.

“I do.” Thorin breathed.

* * *

 

This time it was Thorin pounding on the door. Booming echoes that must have been heard clear across the fields back down at that damned tavern. What they’d heard -- what Thorin thought it meant -- he had to be wrong. His husband had to be wrong.

He would have noticed. Dwalin had been writing to their hobbit for  years. He would have noticed. He couldn’t have missed this. He would have known if Bilbo needed them so badly.

Should have.

Didn’t.

But Thorin was certain. Dwalin had doubted him, almost begging him to say it wasn’t the case.

Thorin had not even stopped walking. He had recognized something, and the half formed sentences he managed referenced the letter, the things Dwalin had told him, the gossip, and the stories Bilbo had told him on the quest. Not a bit of it wanted to come together for Dwalin. It was all there, but his mind just refused to let it form the picture Thorin was trying to show him.

But --

Bilbo couldn’t be --

Dwalin had been the one to help Thorin, he would have seen it in Bilbo, even between the lines of the letters. Even hidden behind lies.

He would have.

The pounding on the door continued, a steady beat that battered at him as well.

When there was no answer after long minutes, after Thorin’s fist had been joined by frantic shouts and pleas that Bilbo open the door, Thorin had taken a single step away. Faster than Dwalin could ask what had changed, he slammed forward, breaking off the small lock and continuing into the dark smial.

Dwalin followed, barely two steps behind. By the time he was inside, Thorin had vanished down the hall. Turning to the kitchen, Dwalin followed the faint light of the windows, searching. He froze a second later when he really looked.

Fussily neat.

That’s how he’d remembered the hobbit hole from that night before the quest.

Now it felt... disused. Abandoned. Dirt cluttered the corners. Dust was settled thick over papers and books. There were cups strewn about with stains of wine in the bottom and cobwebs stretched over a few of them.

There was a broken cup on the ground in a pool of tea.

The pantry was almost bare. Not emptied, not consumed, but never filled fully. A strange assortment of food was aging on the shelves.

Thorin was right.

The elves called it fading.

Dwarves called it surrendering.

He spun, standing in the kitchen, and recalled something from the letters.

The knife block was full, and clean. No dust. He pulled one out and checked. Faltered.

They were too dull to even get called knives anymore.

It was slammed back into place. None of it made sense.

Forcing himself to swallow down the bile in his throat, to push aside the guilt until they knew he was well, Dwalin checked the kitchen hearth. Still warm. He _had_ heard him earlier. He could still fix this. There was still time. He could.

A crashing bang wrenched at his gut and he followed it a study. Thorin was seated at the fancily carved desk with upturned drawers about him and a tired sheaf of paper in his hand. His fist crashed back into the wood as Dwalin entered. He shrugged violently away from a touch to his shoulder and kept reading.

The handwriting was Bilbo’s. Dwalin knew it well enough. He had read and reread the letters over the years. He knew the hand. Scratchy and scribbled over, but Bilbo’s.

Thorin finished the last page with an aborted gasp. He rose stiltedly, staring anywhere Dwalin wasn’t, pointedly left the paper on the desk, and vanished from the room.

Trying not to consider what could rattle him that deeply, Dwalin retrieved it, and began to read.

 


	28. Bilbo - November 20, 2945

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This does include Bilbo's unsent letter from Chapter Two, but I am not posting it again

 

_November 20th, 2945_

Perhaps the delivery was slow. I told myself that I would not hope, but I do not think that is going to be possible. Only fitting I suppose, I’ve never done a brave thing that did not go wrong somehow.

That night with the trolls. Smaug. The Arkenstone. This. Every time I have tried to be brave, I have only made it worse. It was rather foolish to ask you not to answer but I don’t think I would survive hearing you say no.

I’ll wait a bit longer. I promise.

 

 

_December 19th, 2945_

I cannot pretend it is not winter anymore.

I swore I would put it behind me and I shall.

I shall.

 

 

_February 4th, 2946_

I’m sorry Dwalin. I can’t.

 

 

_February 27th, 2946_

I wish Drogo hadn’t found me. It’s been years and it’s only gotten worse. ~~XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX~~ If the storm had been a little stronger ~~XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX~~ The only thing that keeps me going is ~~knowing my dwarves wouldn’t forgive me~~    stubbornness. They aren’t my dwarves. They would have visited by now if they were. Mother always said I was muleheaded. Probably why I got on so well with all of them.

I wish I didn’t love you. I wish I was brave enough to run out my door again. I wish I could hope  ~~XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX~~

It’s been too long.

~~I wish Drogo hadn’t found me.~~

I have to be stronger than this.

 

 

_S_ _eptember 22nd, 2946_

Today was my birthday, Dwalin. I know I’ve told you about birthdays in the Shire before, about how everyone comes together to celebrate. I told you about the party tree while we were in the dungeons, and I told you how we give presents to everyone that comes. That they’re my favorite part of life in Hobbiton. You said it was quaint and that

Today was        I invited everyone of course. I tried. I tried so hard last year -- I just. I needed to be what I am suppo

I didn’t even    After the winter I knew they wouldn’t come and I couldn’t bear to think of getting back so many notes refusing. That first year was    I couldn’t do it again.

I try not to let it be a problem, but I’m so horribly

I don’t deserve anything from them ~~after what I’ve~~    ~~or from you since I betrayed~~    or from anyone. Winter should be here soon.   ~~XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX~~    ~~XXX~~

 

 

_December 5th, 2946_

I have decided that I just won’t answer your letter. And if you write another, I won’t open it. That is the only way that I will survive . I always think I am doing so well. And I am. I do better. I improve. Then you write. And it’s everything I want and I cannot ever have it and it is so hard to pretend.

 

 

_January 3rd, 2947_

I saw an old friend over Midwinter. We talked for hours. I believe it is the longest I have willingly talked to anyone in a year. It was ~~XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX~~

She’s very sweet. I have a great deal of wealth. Maybe she can be persuaded. I meant to ask her to stay a few weeks. Perhaps I can finally start to build a life here. I know I will ~~XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX~~ in Erebor.

I do not want it. I am content in the Shire.

I have enough money now to persuade anyone.

 

 

_February 19th, 2947_

I am content in the Shire. I will make this work.

With her.

 

 

_July 1st, 2947_

You know I don’t cry anymore Dwalin? Isn’t that strange. I’m sitting here, and I’d like to, really I would.  After everything that’s been said, I probably have the right. I probably ought to put all my fine handkerchiefs to use and just have a good weep. I’ve tried. I just can’t. I last cried seven months ago. I know, because at first I remembered out of pride. I had cried so much, I was glad it had stopped. So I kept track, out of, I don't know, victory? Then I realized it was because I couldn’t. I tried to cry, to get all of it out, but I think I need something bright to hold up against everything that has gone wrong for me to manage it. When everything is dark it’s just. It’s staid. It’s empty. It doesn’t get any worse you know. No day is different than the next. not really. Some days I go for a walk through town and I hope someone will get angry, yell, throw me from the market. Anything.

They never do. It’s just silent. Except for Lobelia.

I have a little cloud of emptiness that hangs around me that I cannot shake aside.

I don’t think I ever will. I begin to think that this is all that remains for me. A world turned silent and empty. I don’t know how to live in a world like that. Is there some secret to it? I don’t think hobbits are supposed to be alone. I just wish I deserved to come back to Erebor. I wish I had some place that actually wanted me.

But I refuse to prove her right.

 

 

_August 3rd, 2947_

I wish it would stop. Or start. Or change. something.

I just want someone to stop by for tea. or to tell me that my daisies look limp or my roses need trimming. They used to. They told me how terrible my garden was, and it was often the only conversation I had at all. Except they can’t tell me any of those things because I haven’t got a garden right now. Not a thing. Nothing grows for me Dwalin. That’s the worst of it. I know you don’t understand that. You don’t understand what that means. You would be so mad at me if you did, so I won’t explain it. You’d be so mad.

You’ll never even see this and I’m still too much of a coward to say it.

I don’t want them to wilt and die, but they do, no matter how hard I try.

I don’t understand why it’s still like this! It shouldn’t be. No one talks to me except Lobelia coming by to harass me and steal my things. She comes by once a week, it's horrible. We don’t do that, cut someone out like that, which means I must have done something. I must have. I don’t know what. My birthday party that first year was -- well, it could have been better. The one after I wasn’t feeling well. Thats no excuse. But then you wrote and something changed and now it’s ~~XXXXXXXXX~~.  I hate it

I should be able to read a letter from you without coming apart.

I’ll never send this. Its not even a letter. I just need someone to talk to, and you’re the only one left. Even though you’ll never hear it. Silly of me. This is never going to be sent. I should tear it up and burn it. I don’t want anyone to see it. I don’t want you to read it. I don’t want you to know how pathetic I am.  But I think if I don’t say this somehow I’ll break. I don’t want to break. I’m trying. I am. I try so hard to hold myself together.

I know that if you saw me like this you’d insist I come back with you. You’d insist I stay in Erebor where you could protect me. But it would be out of a misplaced attempt to repay me for, oh I don’t even know what for. but you were always talking about how I deserve what’s mine, and you’d be willing to subject yourself to me thinking it repayment for the quest. The only thing I wanted at the end of the quest I destroyed when I gave away the Arkenstone.  

I couldn’t stand your pity. I really couldn’t. It would be worse than the silence. Like this I can pretend that you care, because I never have to see you wince when I arrive. Never have to see you slump when I start to talk. You would. You’d pretend you were glad to see me, but it would be a lie and it would hurt more from you because of how I feel ~~and how my stupid traitorous heart can’t stop thinking that maybe If I hadn’t ruined everything that I could~~

As long as you’re there, and as long as you don’t know. I can keep pretending and thats all I have right now Dwalin. If you found out about how I’ve lied. The only thing I have left would wilt and die too, and I don’t know how I’d go on after that. I’ve lied so much that now I don’t even think about it. I write to you and I say that things are fine, but they aren’t.

I don’t think they can be again.

I’m lying and lying and lying and I wish I could stop. I just can’t. At least in your mind I’m living the life you want me to.

I can’t tell you. You hate liars.

I have to learn to be content here.

 

 

_August 20th, 2947_

I’m happy for you both.

 

 

_September 22nd 2947_

I dulled all my knives today. I ~~XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX~~ but it was nice to know I had the option there. I still have Sting, but I won’t. Not with Sting.  

Maybe tomorrow I’ll finally take the mithril to Bree.

 

 

_December 8th, 2947_

Fifteen months. Why can I still smile? Why do I laugh  when I reread your letters and your stories? When the fauntlings play nearby? Why can I still smile when I can’t cry.

It doesn’t matter.

I’m not going to write back to you. I’m not this time. I won’t. It only gets worse when you write. So I just have to make you stop. I thought I had. Hyacinthe. The Mithril. I thought I could finally stop hurting. You wrote back though. I wish you hadn’t. I was doing so well. I had a full conversation with the Gamgees, and another with Etienne Bolger.

I am trying.

Now it just hurts.

Stop writing. Please stop writing to me. Because I can’t stop answering you.

 

 

_April 26th, 2948_

Today is always a bad day.

I think about him ~~sometimes~~  always, about how he must have been so disgusted at the letter I sent. I just wanted to believe you Dwalin. I don’t think you lied to me, I think you were just telling me to contact him as a friend and I wanted more so I heard what I wanted instead of what you were saying. You did tell me later that the gold sickness brought out his honest opinions.  I should have thought before I sent that thing. It was stupid and foolish and I should never

I think about you as well. It’s wrong to have    to want to    to think that    You’re married.

But I still do. I shouldn’t but I do. If I hadn’t made such a mess of things, maybe I could tell you, but I broke it and all I’ve done for seven years is make it worse. Those first two years, before I heard from you? I was surviving. It wasn’t like this. I was getting better. I ate. I had guests over. I was still eccentric, adventuring and coming home with weapons, but I was still-- they hadn’t started with the name yet. Maybe if I actually stop writing to you I could get better again. I could make them think I was just my old self. If I don’t I think I’m going  ~~XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX~~

But I can’t let go of you. You’re the only thing that makes me laugh or smile now. If I’m wrong? If they’ll never forgive the indiscretion? I’d have nothing left at all.

Everywhere I turn, everything I try, I just make it worse.

 

 

_June 22nd, 2948_

I haven’t heard back from you yet. I guess you’re probably thinking that you’ve bothered with me enough. Repaid your debt to me. That you don’t want to keep talking to me. I knew you would eventually. And Thank you for being so patient for so long. I thought it would be easier to make you stop, but you dwarves are rather stubborn.

I have a gardener.

Bag End needs to be in better shape so that ~~XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX~~

He is very good. There are plants again. Flowers. A few vegetables. There might even be a real harvest this fall.

~~XXXXXXXXXXXXXX~~

I should write to you again. Once more. Just to   It would be polite, and mail travels slow. Even with the ravens. I don’t think I ever thanked you for them. Thanked him. Well. Thank you, I know it wasn’t done for me, but I appreciate it all the same. I got to hear from you more ~~while you still wrote~~

I get lost sometimes in the lies I’ve told you. I woke up and wondered where my wife was. It’s better than the life I’m living. And I want that, even though it would look different if I wasn’t such a coward. I used to think there might be hope for that ludicrous dream of mine.

I was just imagining it. There isn’t any hope. You’re married.

It’s been too long.

And I don’t deserve you.

I don't even want that anymore.


	29. Scene - The Shire - August 18, 2948

August 18th, 2948

The Shire

 

Dwalin tripped as he stepped outside, still dazed.

Thorin had vanished while Dwalin had read through the letters -- confessions -- from Bilbo. He wasn’t in the house. He wasn’t by their ponies in the front.

He found him standing in a small, enclosed back garden, with the pack of Bilbo’s sent letters in one hand, and the dusky light of the late afternoon making the flowers glow. Hesitant, as was needed, when his husband was like this -- lost in his thoughts -- Dwalin set a gentle hand on his shoulder.

The world went bright as a fist caught him below the jaw.

As the shock cleared, he looked up into Thorin’s livid eyes.

“How did you not notice?” He demanded, “You’ve read these letters. You responded to them. How did you not notice?”

“Thorin -- ya know that --”

“How could you miss this Dwalin? How? It’s right there. He’s been telling you for years and you never listened. He has been begging you to notice.” His voice was rough and his hands shook as he stood above him.

“And you read some of em back in Erebor! Why didn’t you say something before now!”

“I had not seen it all! I thought I that I was seeing what I -- imposing something that wasn’t there. Because of my own experience and because it would have meant a confirmation of the things I had wanted. I wanted him to be hurting because it meant I had not lost him.” Thorin spat the words: an accusation levelled at himself. Then he spun back, “But you have written to him for years Dwalin. You saw it in me. How did you not see it? How could you have failed him like this?”

Snarling, Dwalin climbed back to his feet.

“Because I was taking care of you, Thorin. Because I knew what you were thinking of doin’ and I had to watch it every day and if I hadn’t been having to keep you steady maybe I would have noticed he was just as bad! Maybe I coulda come here and seen him! But I had to stay with you and keep _you_ whole!”

“You never should have put me above him!” He shouted, swinging a second punch. Dwalin dodged, knocking the blow off course, and crashing his fist into Thorin’s cheek before grabbing him by the shoulders.

“You coulda written Thorin!”

“I am aware of that!”

“And ya never did because you were too scared and lost in your own hurt! You craven fool! Anything, Thorin. Ya coulda sent anything an’ he woulda written back to ya!”

“Then you should have forced me.” Thorin yanked out of the grip and swung again, clipping Dwalin’s chin and letting the letters scatter over the ground. “Why didn’t you make me?”

If Dwalin had been armored, or if either had brought weapons in from their packs, it would have escalated too fast. It would have gone wrong. Dwalin would have stepped back and ended it before it had done anything unmendable, but since that wouldn’t happen with bare fists, they continued. Sharp blows and hits that gave their blame somewhere to go.

“I _tried_ to force you, ya idiot! I begged ya to write to him. You never did. I’m not the only one who failed him!”

Thorin tried to tackle. Flung himself forward in a sloppy attack with a broken denial cracking in his throat. Dwalin caught him in the chest and held him upright by the tunic in his fist.

With clenched eyes and holding his breath, Thorin swayed for a moment, shutting down.

“Don’t! Don’t do this to me right now ya bastard! Don’t, Thorin!” A harsh shake snapped Thorin’s jaw shut. “You wanna be mad at me about this? Fine. I promise ya that ya won’t be angrier than me! You wanna blame yourself? You should. I won’t lie and tell ya you shouldn’t. But you gotta wait. We have to find him first. We gotta fix it first.”

He expected that when his husband finally looked at him it would be with guilt and anger, the hollow depression they had dragged him out of before. He expected to see Thorin in worse shape than he’d been since losing Frerin. He expected it to be awful.

But he expected it to be internal.

Instead he found resentment and betrayal flung silently at him.

Thorin pulled away and crossed a few steps, back turned while regathering himself.

Dwalin swallowed and nodded. He’d come here, terrified that he’d lose his husband on this trip, one way or the other. Didn’t make it hurt less.

Would have been nice if the last months hadn’t been so strained. If they could have had a few happy things they actually meant instead of pretended they were happy about. Wasn’t how it happened.

When Thorin’s breathing turned stable and he straightened his spine, settling himself into action, Dwalin forced himself to speak. “We have to find him.”

“We aren’t going to find him. Have you forgotten who this is? He has his ring. He hid from elves for a month. He won’t be found if he doesn’t want to be.”

“Did _you_ forget who this is? Not gonna just let him vanish again.” He knelt and gathered the dropped letters, “If you can’t be arsed to help, I’ll find him alone.”

Thorin didn’t say a thing.

“How did you even know where to look and find those other letters?” Dwalin continued as he rose.

“In Laketown he asked about the hidden door. When I explained he told me that as a child he got in a great deal of trouble for finding the secret drawer in his father’s desk. He said it was opened by spinning a carving of a gardenia.”

“Ya don’t know what a gardenia looks like.”

Thorin nodded once. “No. I tried all of them.”

Silence hurt more than getting punched again. They stood in Bilbo’s garden and glowered at the greenery for a few minutes.

“There was nothing saying where he’s gone, or what he might be thinking of doing.”

“No. But we’ll find him. Even if he’s wearing that ring, he’ll leave tracks after all that rain.”

“We don’t know where to begin.”

“We’ll find him, Thorin.”

“It’s been seven years.”

“He still wants to see ya. He still loves ya.”

“How do you know that?”

Dwalin felt his lips try to smile. “I can recognize it.”

“And after?”

He looked back at the letters clutched in his hand. He’d known this might happen. He’d made his choice before they even reached the Misty Mountains. He should have known.

“My brother’s been talking about Khazad-dûm. Can’t let him have all the fun.”

When the quiet got painful enough that Dwalin almost started to hope Thorin would tell him not to go, Thorin nodded.

And walked back inside.

* * *

 

The advantage of the Shire being inhabited by gossipy little buggers more interested in the things others did than their own defense, was that it was pretty easy for Dwalin to scare them into telling him where they’d seen Bilbo run off to.

And they had seen him run, oddly enough. The hobbit had a magic ring that could let him pass unseen, but there was a trail of irritated hobbits leading west in spite of that. A trail they followed in tense and oppressive company with each other. They followed rumor until they reached some ancient and uncomfortable forest. They’d been pointed this way by some little old hobbit lady, who assured them that Bilbo was just going for one of his walks.

Nothing to worry about.

It was hopeless. They weren’t talking to each other. They couldn’t find the hobbit. Dwalin had been reading through the letters over and over, only seeing more evidence of how much he had hurt Bilbo. It was lucky he couldn’t recall exactly what he’d written. That would only deepen the blow.

But the pleading was obvious now. Too many comments that should have been obvious. That he had missed. He and Bilbo had always had a strange friendship, reaching out in dark times to each other. He had in Mirkwood. Bilbo had now. Bilbo had kept him sturdy and stable then. Dwalin had failed him now. Whatever had been between them, that he thought he'd seen and thought he'd wanted, was as broken as what was between himself and Thorin. 

He rode, wrapping himself tighter in well deserved guilt.

Thorin would ride without turning, without acknowledging there was anyone with him.

The two had spent enough decades living rough that there was no need to discuss camp or supplies. They knew what they were doing. No need to talk. Nothing to say.

Dwalin caught himself avoiding even brushing hands with Thorin. Caught Thorin doing the same.  Neither commented on it.

They found themselves on the far side of the forest, no closer to finding Bilbo, and snarling at each other, blaming each other in everything but words. There had been worse times in Dwalin’s life, but it was hard to think of any. It had been three days since they’d had any confirmation of Bilbo being alright, being alive. He was doing his best not to think about that option, but he had a letter in his coat, reread so many times it was damn near memorized that kept bringing it back to the front of his mind.

They’d failed him before. Many many times. He wasn’t going to let that happen again.

In front of them were the Barrow Downs, eerie, empty, and ominous if Bilbo had continued into them. They felt like death even at a distance.

Thorin was staring across them as if glaring hard enough would make Bilbo appear.

Dwalin had turned back to the forest, hoping he’d stayed beneath them. The forest was the better option.

“Say it then.”

He whipped his head around, and found Bilbo standing a few steps from Thorin, looking out over the downs. For all that Dwalin could see in a glance that Bilbo wasn’t the same, that something was unwell about him, there was nothing he could put a finger on. Nothing he could have described. But the sight of him, even scowling and sick was enough to make him smile.

Hands fisted at his side and carrying nothing of use, not even that little sword of his, Bilbo waited for them to speak. Impatiently waited. He fidgeted and shuffled and tweaked his nose.

“Please just say it.”

“Say... what?” Thorin managed eventually.

“Whatever--” he huffed, “Whatever it is you came here to say. Say it and then leave me be. This is ridiculous.”

“Master Baggins… we came here to visit you.”

“You’re not welcome. Is that all?” He clipped.

“We came to confirm that you were well.” Thorin tried again.

“As you can see I am fine.”

“No ya aren’t.” Dwalin didn’t move, but Bilbo jumped back like he’d been attacked. His hand shifted, and there was a glimpse of gold.

Thorin moved, scrambling to catch Bilbo’s arm, stopping when he noticed that Bilbo was about to vanish. He had come to them this time. It was obvious they weren’t going to find him again unless he wanted to be found.

“Bilbo.” Thorin’s voice failed him mid-plea. The hobbit turned to look at him with disdain. Hand raised in supplication, Thorin pulled a string wrapped package from his coat and held it out. “I have no right to ask anything of you, but I would ask you to read these.”

Only one thing it could be, and if Dwalin felt like he’d just taken a hammer to the chest, it wasn’t surprising to him. His husband had just handed his heart to the hobbit. Of course he brought those letters with him.

He didn’t know which side of that thought hurt more, but she shoved down the response.

For a moment it seemed all three were sure Bilbo would disappear without taking them.

But he snatched them away, and then vanished.

There was no sense in moving forward. No sense in really setting up camp. So they hitched the ponies to an obliging tree, and Dwalin dropped onto a fallen tree to wait.

Thorin hovered, hesitated, stared into the surrounding trees, and finally sat down.

Next to Dwalin.

It was the closest they had been since leaving Hobbitton. There was still an almighty chasm between them, but no one could have missed the way Thorin was searching for something or someone to keep himself upright. Dwalin couldn’t. No way he could ignore it either.

If they lost Bilbo to this, it wouldn’t matter how many people told Thorin otherwise, he’d take the guilt for himself, and he’d not be able to bear it. It would crush him.

So Dwalin shifted to press a shoulder into Thorin’s. He was angry as hell, but he couldn’t let him sit there in so much pain and wait alone.

They did not have to wait long.

Bilbo popped out of the air before the sun had set, fuming.

He didn’t bother with greetings or preamble, and was still marching toward them when he appeared.

“Why did you give me these? Why would you do that? You ridiculous dwarf. How could you think this was the thing to do? How does this help?” He flapped the pages at Thorin.

Thorin bowed below the verbal blows.

“Did you know this?” Bilbo said, shifting his focus to Dwalin.

The hobbit had that feral anger that never lasted long. Dwalin had outlasted it with others, and could do it again. Would. Because hiding behind this furious shouting was the actual reaction, and Dwalin was willing to bet anything that it didn’t look a thing like this.

“I did know.”

“Then -- you -- Why did you never say!”

“Wasn’t my place. I gave you all the hints I could.”

“Hints?” He nearly screamed. “You say you gave me hints as if that makes it right?”

“Aye, and ya got them. Ya noticed.”

“And why do you say that?”

“You wrote to me.” Thorin said to the ground.

“And you never answered. Which, is, yes, what I asked you to do. But please, do not pretend that you are here because of that. That was three years ago. More than in fact. If you had cared you would have written. You would have told me. You left me with exactly what I asked for, which was silence. I… I understood. Why in the name of all that’s green would you be here now.”

He was cracking, losing the composure of anger, starting to sound vulnerable. Starting to sound like Dwalin knew he felt. He should have been the one pushing, but had enough trouble remembering to breath.

“We had to make sure you were well Bilbo.”

“I told you, I am fine, Thorin!”

“But Drogo might not find you next time.”

The change was instant. Bilbo backed away from them both, betrayed and trying to control his reaction.

“How.... did you know that?” He finally asked in a deadly low voice.

“I found your letters.” Thorin admitted, “In the hidden drawer you told me about that night in Laketown.”

“You did what?” His voice was perfectly controlled again.

“I found them and I read them, I know I cannot repair what I --”

In a voice that had all the warmth of a winter night, Bilbo interrupted.

“You didn’t have any right to do that, Thorin.”

“No I did not.” Thorin finally managed to look up from his boots. He caught Bilbo’s eye and held it as he continued, “But for the pledge I made to you that night on the lake, for that bond between us, I had to be sure you were well. I had to see it myself.”

“You broke those vows.”

“But I still consider myself bound by them.”

Dwalin looked between the two of them, and closed his eyes against the fracturing in his heart.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be answering yesterday's comments late today.
> 
> ETA: Chapter 30 will be posted late because Real Life is a messy and terrible thing. It will be posted on the correct day though. Think of it like this... Less time you have to wait between it and the final installment!


	30. Scene - Old Forest - August 24, 2948

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so very sorry for the delay. RL. its a doozy.

August 24th, 2948

Old Forest 

 

“But I still consider myself bound by them.”

Of course Thorin did. Whatever he had promised, he’d hold himself to it then, now, and for the rest of his life. Whatever it was he had pledged.

“I don’t.” Bilbo replied.

Thorin managed to nod, “That is your right.”

“Yes, after you tried to kill me, it did somewhat tarnish my faith that you would never bring me to harm.”

“Which I have regretted everyday since.” Thorin was breaking, falling to pieces in the face of Bilbo’s callous replies. Bilbo--

There was a reason that Dwalin had noticed Thorin’s troubles before the others. There was a reason he could see the lie in Bilbo’s face. Something about being honest himself. But he was used to seeing Thorin hiding, lying to protect himself. He’d seen far less of it recently.

Seeing it on Bilbo was nauseating. He noticed the despair in Dwalin’s face.

“No need to look like that Dwalin, it wasn’t what you think it was. You’re dwarves, you swear oaths for all manner of unnecessary things. It’s not as if he and I pledged to each other.”

He held Bilbo’s eye, then glanced back to Thorin, and rose. It wasn’t going to be pretty. Already was a mess. There wouldn’t be any getting out of this without pushing Bilbo the rest of the way. Breaking past that layer of cruel insults and finding whatever the damned hobbit was actually thinking.

And he had to hope he didn’t send Bilbo running into the Downs.

They wouldn’t get him back.

“We _are_ dwarves, ya always were a smart one like that.” Bilbo’s nose tweaked, and for a moment, Dwalin thought he saw the hobbit he knew. The one that had kept him steady in the claustrophobic hell that was Mirkwood. The one that was viciously protective of his friends. The one that was brave, and fierce and honest. But it was only for a moment, “Dwarves don’t tend to go back. We’re a stubborn lot. You know that. Never been all that worried about the danger and the risk when we’re doing something.”

“No matter who you hurt.”

“That’s not true, Bilbo.” There was a retort coming. Another insult or barb, so Dwalin just pushed onward, “An’ we’re idiots more often than not. The two of us in particular, as you well know, but we never tried to hurt you.”

“Not when we were in our proper minds.” Thorin added, rising as well.

“Then why -- Why would you show me these? Why would you come here?”

“We were worried.”

“I felt you deserved honesty from me.”

Bilbo shook his head at them both, stepping away from them, and fiddling with the ring.

“Why didn’t you write back to me then Thorin? Why did you wait two years, Dwalin? Hmm? Why has the rest of the Company never written?”

“The letter you sent me was lost in the Mountains. -- It was, Bilbo! I did not know you had written, it was sent before the Raven Stations were operational, or I would have received a report that a letter was missing. Do not doubt me, had I received it when it was sent, I would have replied. I would have begged you to come to the Mountain. I would have come to escort you. Those letters I gave you -- know that my feelings were the same. The letter was lost.”

Bilbo scoffed and flicked away the bug crawling on his arm. “It was, Bilbo,” Dwalin interrupted, “the carrier fell in the mountains and the letter was lost for months. It reached Erebor in April. We left to come here the next day.”

“Why come at all? Have you forgotten your own marriage?”

The bit of honesty was gone again. Dwalin restarted in a tone he normally used on dwarves lost in their nightmares. The ones who didn’t know what was real and what was false.

It wasn’t a terrible comparison.

He gestured for Thorin to keep his mouth shut and stop making it worse.

“In your more recent letters… you sounded like ya were doing well, and I hoped ya were, but I needed to be sure. I was worried.”

“That’s excellent. Worried. Well, thank you. A bit late though.”

“We shoulda been there for you sooner.”

“Yes.”

“We weren’t.”

“You know, funny you should mention that, but I noticed. You can go, I can manage myself without your interference.”

“Bilbo, we marched across Arda to come check in on ya because there was a chance you weren’t so well as you seemed. Do you really think we’ll let you be now that we know ya aren’t?”

He almost put the ring on and ran. His hand twitched a bit around it. His eyes flickered to the dusky shadows of the Downs.

Dwalin didn’t dare move, barely felt like he could breathe without startling him. Thorin, luckily did the same.

“Are you really going to try and tell me that you care, Dwalin?”

“Bilbo I’ve always --”

“No, I have been asking for your help for years and you have never noticed. I have begged you for help, and you never said a word. Not a word. You -- you were the only person that I admitted anything to -- anything -- because I had no one else to talk to and I thought I could trust you and you never heard me. Please, do not pretend that you care. Or cared. Either. It’s entirely clear that you do not.”

“Bilbo I --”

“Don’t do that if you please. Don’t interrupt. Don’t pretend or try to convince me. Don’t excuse it or tell me some pretty little story to make it better. It will never be better. You lot tried to kill me. You banished me. You broke every vow of friendship and promise of -- and then, you wrote, as if nothing had changed. As if I was still the same hobbit I had been. But I am not, and I never will be. Not the one you dragged off with you on your quest, and certainly not the one you knew at the end of your journey, they don’t exist anymore.

“You left me to my own keeping, and that is where I will stay. You discarded me, and the only person I have seen that shows any sign of interest in my wellbeing is my horrid cousin Lobelia! And on any day I’m never certain whether she is trying to help or simply send me so far around the bend that she can take my house back! And still! _Still_ Dwalin! She has been there to support me more than you. Than either of you as a matter of fact.

“Do not claim you are here for me. I’ll not believe it. I wanted to think you cared when we began to write. I was hopeful, and touched, and a fool. You have never been there for me.”

Knowing what was in the letters he had sent, what was said in the letters he hadn’t, and knowing what state Bilbo had been in all these years, Dwalin couldn’t argue the point.

He had failed him. Over and over, he had let Bilbo come second just because he couldn’t see that he needed to come first. And he should have seen it. But he hadn’t wanted to know that someone else he cared about was hurting. So he’d let himself miss it. Let himself believe the lies, and lies they were. He’d abandoned him to his troubles and had no right to impose his advice or assistance where it wasn’t wanted.

Bilbo’s hands were clenched tight, hiding the tremoring.

He was coming apart, but he’d made it clear that Dwalin wasn’t welcome. With a long exhale, he tried to resign himself to it. He needed to say something about them leaving. Try to make sure he’d actually head back home. That he’d be alright.

The lump in his throat kept him silent and he stepped slowly away.

Thorin would want to follow or leave a guard on the hobbit, something or anything to make sure that he would be safe. If they couldn’t, and they lost him, what little love was left between himself and Thorin would evaporate. Guilt would win.

Bilbo could swear all he wanted that he was going to be fine; it wouldn’t make it true.

Dwalin was just at a loss on how to help anymore.

“I should have written.”

Thorin’s voice was a shock in the air.

“Oh, but you did, see? I’m holding the proof of that right here. You wrote.”

“I should have sent them to you, every one of them. Every time I found myself lost and reaching for you, even knowing that you were not there, I should have written, and sent it to you. I should have made clear that my feelings were unchanged. I will not pretend to believe that you will ever forgive me, but I should have attempted to make amends. I should have followed you and offered whatever you demanded in repayment for my actions to you. But by the time I could walk you were gone. By spring, the mountain was filling with dwarves, and they needed me there, so I stayed and hoped that you were well.”

The letters Bilbo held rustled and crinkled as he crushed them. The sound of it was louder than the words he eventually spoke.

“I needed you.”

Thorin bent his head, but did not allow the pain to break him. He held strong, unsupported, and continued.

“I did not know. If I could undo my deeds I would. Know that, if nothing else, to be wholly true. I regret what I did while lost in Goldsickness, and should have spent every day since showing you that was true.”

“Don’t bother.”

“Bilbo.”

“No. The both of you just stop this. Stop pretending that it can be fixed. It can never be fixed. It is over and dead. There is no undoing what has happened. Dwalin, you wrote and sent me into -- It was always worse after you wrote, because I, because of course I wanted to go back. I wanted to be in the Mountain. I wanted to be there, with you, but I knew I wasn’t welcome and stop pretending that isn’t true! If you had wanted me back you would have come. You would have followed. You would have written. You wouldn’t have left me alone all these years. You wouldn’t have gotten married. Stop it! Even if I still wanted -- thought that I -- even if I -- it doesn’t matter! You are married. This cannot be fixed! Leave me alone!”

He caught himself and suppressed the emotion trying to escape. Shoulders squared, he spoke more calmly, “Please leave. I am perfectly fine. I don’t want you here.”

Bilbo was about to leave, ring flashing in his hand, and feet shifting.

“Bilbo?” Thorin’s voice was so soft, vulnerable an open. Whatever this was, Dwalin knew it was the last gambit he had.

“What?”

“How is your garden?”

Dwalin stared at his reckless, desperate friend, and at his friend that seemed caught between shame and rage.

“How is your garden?” He repeated, more certainly.

Head shaking insistently, Bilbo answered, “Nope, no. It’s fine. My garden is fine. You saw it. There is nothing wrong with my garden.”

“Bilbo, I think it would be best if you acknowledge it before I am forced to say more.”

“There is nothing to acknowledge! My garden is fine. The vegetables are healthy. The flowers are -- are -- are exuberant! My garden is fine!”

Dwalin frowned at Bilbo’s panic. Thorin had hinted at this. Something about the garden and the gardener, and what it really meant. Dwalin had thought it was like a dwarf abandoning their craft. A terrible sign. But something in the tone of conversation said there was more.

He tracked Bilbo’s frantic retreat as Thorin reached for him.

“It isn’t your garden Bilbo.”

“What? Of course it is! It’s my smial and it’s --”

“You have a gardener.”

Mouth working wordlessly, Bilbo was distracted and retreating away from Thorin, not considering where he was going. Dwalin snuck behind and put himself between the hobbit and the Downs.

“Do you recall, Bilbo? The night in the forest? I’d woken from a nightmare to see you trying to calm me. When I told you about losing my brother Frerin?” Thorin noticed Dwalin guarding against an escape, and stopped moving. “Do you recall my telling you of the years after the battle? I told you about our loss, and our exile. I told you about the way that many dwarves wandered, hollow and desperate because they could not withstand the pain, but were too stubborn to surrender entirely? Do you recall what you told me of after?”

Bilbo was gasping for air now, caught and protected and safe, and noticing nothing except Thorin’s words.

“You told me of your parents. You told me about about losing your father, and how your mother’s heart broke. You never told me all of it. You were too upset, but you began telling me about a hobbit’s garden, and how like it is to dwarven craft. It seemed that it was more than that, but I did not pry. What you told me was that your mother could not grow anything after she lost your father. That her heart was too broken to grow. That you should have known what was coming.”

“Stop. Please stop.”

“Bilbo, if we leave, will you still need a gardener?”

“Please stop.”

“Bilbo, if we leave, will you be able to grow things again? Maybe not at first, but in time?”

“Please Thorin, please. Dwalin, make him stop.”

“Bilbo, if it will help, we will go. I swear it. Simply tell me that if we do, you will not need a gardener any longer.”

“Dwalin -- make it -- make him --”

“Bilbo, will you improve?”

He had balanced on the edge for too long. His voice had been cracking and he had shaken harder and harder as Thorin pressed him for an answer.

Letters and ring fell from his hands.

“I won’t.”

And he shattered beneath the confession.

Before he could fall, they moved as one, and held him while he dissolved into weeping.

 

 


	31. Scene Continued - Old Forest - August 24, 2948

August 24th, 2948

Old Forest

 

By the time Bilbo’s crying had faded, the sun was fully down, and the hobbit had fallen into a ragged sleep, leaning against Dwalin’s arm. It had been blind tears. Not laced with confessions. No words at all. Just a release of emotion he had been holding back for too long.

Dwalin shifted him into a pile of blankets near the fire Thorin had started.

He settled himself on the ground on the opposite side of the blaze and didn’t pretend he was going to sleep that night.

Thorin had left to find where the rest of Bilbo’s things were before the last light vanished. With the forest at their back, and chilling span of the Downs at their front, it wasn’t going to feel safe. It wasn’t going to feel like anything but what it was. A temporary peace.

Without the distraction of chasing Bilbo and guarding Thorin, Dwalin had to let himself think about what had happened. How close to wrong it all had gone. How much of it was his own fault. Yes, he planned to have a nice chat with the rest of the company about their failings too, yeah, it probably was going to involve his knuckle dusters, but it didn’t change that he had failed as well. They hadn’t written out of a mix of discomfort and shame. He had written, and still missed it.

Bilbo hadn’t said it outright. Of course he hadn’t. Hobbits seemed to keep themselves wrapped pretty tightly behind manners. But he had said it, and if Dwalin had bothered to think for more than a minute about it, he’d have seen it years ago. He could have ridden over to drag him back to the Mountain. Or he could have smacked Thorin a bit harder in the head and made him send something.

At the time it had seemed like the right thing to let them make their own choices.

Still was.

But this time he could push them towards it at least.

Thorin had been his best friend for ages. Bilbo had seemed like the same. They’d known him half a year, but it had seemed like decades after everything they went through.

Both of them were coming apart, and it seemed like the only way to keep them whole, was going to be to put them together.

Which he didn’t want to do.

Was probably the right thing though.

The pair of them had been caught up in each other almost from the start. If being separated for years hadn’t lessened that, nothing was going to. It wouldn’t be right to be the thing that kept them from each other. It’d be a scandal, and the population of Erebor would gossip themselves into a frenzy. It’d never rightly be official, not after the mess with Kíli and Tauriel. Not with Dwalin’s connection to it.

It was never going to be perfect for them, but he could get them whatever happiness was available.

Thorin returned with a blanket and a sword strapped to Bilbo’s small pack.

“At least he brought a weapon with him.” Thorin said with a look at where Bilbo would have run next.

“Don’t think it woulda helped him there much.”

“No.”

“He’s worse than--”

“You should have--”

They both cut off as they spoke over each other, and Thorin gestured.

“He’s worse than you think, Thorin. Can’t leave him on his own.”

“I have no intention to.”

“We’ve both read all of it. He’s not gonna be all better when he wakes up. He’s still hurting. And so are you.”

“I know that.”

“He’s still not convinced we give a damn about what happens to him.”

Thorin breathed deep and sat down away from either other, “He has reason to doubt us. I have failed him.”

“And I failed you both.”

“That’s hardly--”

“Thorin, don’t pretend I didn’t. It’s just….insulting. I should have pushed you to write. Kept pushing. Or made you read Bilbo’s letters. You probably would have seen it. You were living it. You would have known and you woulda come to find him.”

“I had to stay in the mountain, we could not leave Erebor in the care of a regent before the political landscape had settled.”

Dwalin glared until he had Thorin’s attention, and finally said what he’d held back for years.

“If you’d wanted to leave you could have. Dís is a better ruler than you, and ya know it. You chose not to. And ya know why ya did.”

This wasn’t going to be fixed if they kept dancing around the truth. He knew Thorin was prone to it. He’d thought Bilbo was much more honest. Apparently not. That left it to him to keep them on target.

“Yes,” Thorin allowed, “but why didn’t you?”

“Because of you. Because I let you come first. Just like you let Erebor come first. Like I said, we both failed him.” He dropped another branch into the fire and watched it catch. “But that’s past now. That’s what we did, and since we can’t go back and fix it, it doesn’t matter. What are ya going to do now? That’s the part that matters. Bilbo’ll have an opinion on it, I’m sure of that. And he’s a lot more stubborn than either of us knew. He kept himself afloat all these years without help. If he tells us he wants nothing to do with us, ya aren’t gonna change his mind.”

“He needs us.”

“No, he needs someone. And before he wakes up you need to admit that this might end with us walking away forever. We’ll sort ourselves out after.”

“What do you mean?”

“Where you’re gonna want me to go.” He said in as mild a voice as he could. “Blue Mountains? I could lead the group at Khazad-dûm if you want my brother to stay as an advisor.”

Thorin looked away for a long time, lit by the fire and the moon above.

Harder decision than Dwalin expected it to be. There were mountains across Arda with thriving dwarven cities hidden in them. He could be an ambassador. He’d be a terrible one, but the generals would like him at least.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

Something warm spread out from Dwalin’s chest and made him smile before reality chased after, turning his blood back to ice.

“But ya won’t walk away from Bilbo.”

“No.”

“But you don’t want me to leave.”

“No.”

“I don’t think you can have both.”

“I am not going to let you go.”

“You’d put him second again?”

“How can I? After what we’ve done. I should send word to Dis and Fili, and I should see if there is an untended forge in the Shire, and I should stay and try to repay my guilt in his suffering. I should ensure he never sees harm again, and I should stay and honor the oaths that I made to him. I owe him that and so much more.”

Thorin was building up speed, tumbling into his pain. His eyes were locked on the fire. Dwalin’s were locked on him. So they both jumped when Bilbo spoke.

“Perhaps you should consider asking me before abandoning your kingdom, Thorin. I might not want you here.” He sat up, dragging the blankets with him and readjusted until he was cocooned against the night air. He did not look at them. He stared past them both out into the mist that was starting to rise in the Downs. “Did you know, I didn’t know I was coming here until I saw them. Then it was obvious.”

“Why would you go there? They reek of death.” Dwalin asked.

There was a dry mirthless smile for that comment before Bilbo turned the conversation, “When you arrived, there was a moment, just a moment, mind, where I was… elated. No one in the Shire knocks like that, Dwalin. No one would dare. So I knew it was you before I even got to my window and saw you both.

“Then I remembered everything else. What you thought you would find, who you thought you would find. I consider myself an excellent storyteller, but even I could not have convinced you that I had a wife and child who were simply hiding away somewhere. I knew that you would find out how much I had lied. And then I hated you.”

“We failed you before, won’t happen again.”

“Yes, so you’ve said. Bebothered dwarves. You’re always making vows.” Bilbo snapped a long twig in half, and in half again, until the pieces were too small to do more than throw them in the fire. “I hated you for coming here. Because now you know. And I never wanted you to. I had worked very hard to build you a narrative that would convince you I had stopped writing out of disinterest. I knew you believed me. You hadn’t noticed before, there was no reason to think that you suddenly would. And now you’ve ruined it.”

“Ruined it?” Thorin asked.

“Yes, ruined my plan. So I suppose I changed to another plan. One where it would be certain. But instead you followed me.”

“Don’t be daft, of course we followed.”

“I didn’t think you would.” He raised his eyes to say it, reminding them of what they had done, and had failed to do. Then looked back to the ground, picking up a new twig. “Now I am not sure what I am going to do. The Lonely Mountain will blow away like a kite before you leave me be now.”

Dwalin chucked, “Aye, that’s probably true.”

“What if I do not want you to?”

“We would be discreet.” Thorin supplied.

“You don’t know how to be discreet Thorin Oakenshield, unless you have changed more in these last years than I know.”

“I had a civil conversation with King Thranduil last year.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it myself.”

Thorin nearly fell over turning to look. “You’d be willing to return to Erebor?” His voice was so hopeful it nearly cracked at the end.

“I didn’t say that.” Bilbo sighed. “I don’t believe I would be welcome. Dwarves are not well known for their inclusion of the other races. And the Shire is my home.”

“Bag End is your home, as you’ve always said.” Dwalin corrected.

“Yes.”

“Do you want it to be your home?”

“What? Yes, of course I do. It is my father’s -- that is, I have lived in Bag End all my life.”

“And the lads lived in Ered Luin all their lives, but Erebor was still their home. They just weren’t livin in it.” Dwalin noticed the way Bilbo’s face tightened at that. “Would you be able to grow yer plants again if you stay?”

Bilbo didn’t answer.

“Bilbo, you never fully explained gardening to me. Is it a cause? or a symptom?”

“It’s both, and I would much prefer not to talk about it.”

“Maybe you just need to try plantin’ in different soil.” Dwalin added. They were trying not to gang up on him. Not to make him feel attacked. So even though Dwalin’s instinct was still telling him to fling the two at each other and ride off on his pony before they came up for air, he continued to support the slower method. “There’s all sorts of things growing on the mountain now. Places where we thought nothing would ever grow. I told ya about the men growing crops, and the trees on the slopes. Didn’t think anything would ever grow there, but there’s little green trees sprouting up everywhere you look.”

“It isn’t my home.”

“It could be.” Thorin rushed out. “It could, if you wanted it to be.”

The hobbit looked up, guarded and cautious, and flicked his eyes between the dwarves again and again.

“I will not come between anything. I can stay in the Shire and not trouble you. I won’t-- I cannot promise that I won’t -- that is, I can promise to try.”

“No,” Thorin interrupted again, too fervently, “No, I cannot leave if you might-- Bilbo I would not be able to -- “

“Thorin, I did not say that I -- would -- that is I cannot say that I would never --”

“We don’t want ya to die Bilbo.” Dwalin interrupted, exhausted by their hedging. “We aren’t gonna let ya. If ya want to stay here, well, we’d need to sort it out, and this idiot would probably stick around. But you’re welcome to come with us back to Erebor for as long as you please.”

“Come back with us Bilbo, and if you wish to return to the Shire we can send you with a guard to ensure you safe passage. You said you were willing to run across Arda for me and I only ask for a chance.”

“Stop that, you. Stop. You received that letter in April you said?”

“Yes.”

“I wrote it three years ago. Three years. And I was left to silence. I have spent every day since reminding myself that I want nothing to do with you. I have had no one to rely on save Dwalin. What I wrote in that letter is… I do not know if any of it is true anymore. I’m sorry.”

Thorin nodded, and the best Dwalin could say about it was that he didn’t hesitate or try to hide how much it hurt to hear. “I have no expectations. As you said, I broke my vows to you.”

“I’ll not see you break them again Thorin.” Bilbo declared with a substantial look at Dwalin. “I mean that. I’ll not let you. No matter what you may have read. And no, you had no right to read those, but I cannot put the rose back on the bush. What you read does not change that I will not allow you to break your vows.”

Years ago, while they sat on the ledge outside the secret door, Dwalin had assured Thorin that if anyone could steal from a dragon it’d be Bilbo. The hobbit had a mithril spine. That’s what he’d said. It should have been more obvious before. It had been missing when he appeared in their camp. He’d been holding himself up with twigs then. Now, he was starting to show a hint, just a glimmer of the unbreakable will they had known.

Not enough that Dwalin would willingly walk away, but enough to let him hope.

“You’re gonna come.” Dwalin declared with a widening grin.

“I never said anything of the kind.”

“Didn’t say ya did. But you’re gonna come back with us.”

Bilbo tossed the remnants of the latest twig into the fire. Watched the sap ooze and pop. “I haven’t decided. I will not give up Bag End to be swarmed over by Lobelia and her husband.”

“Bilbo, is she a dark haired hobbit? With a yellow dress and a… sneer?” Thorin asked.

“Wearing an exceptionally tall and hideous hat? Yes, why? You didn’t meet her did you? What did she tell you? What did that miserable hobbit tell you?” Bilbo shouted, half out of the blankets.

“She had some harsh words for us and told us to be on our way out of the Shire. Told us you wouldn’t want to speak to a dwarf again.” Thorin smiled faintly. “Even as rude as she was, she reminded me of my sister. No one escapes Dís’ wrath once she has dug in her heels.”

Dwalin tossed a rock at Thorin. That wasn’t helping.

But Bilbo tilted his head quizzically, “Are you saying that you will dispatch your sister to find me if I do not come to Erebor?”

“I could never be so cruel.” Thorin said innocently, with a small smile.

“Yes you could. Remember, Bilbo, what I told you about Tauriel? And what this bastard made me do?” Dwalin added.

Bilbo’s face lightened as he looked between them and something, not quite a smile, quirked his lips upwards.

“I don’t really have a choice do I?” He asked. Dwalin grinned at him. “Do I?” Bilbo repeated, serious this time.

“Of course ya do. If you want us both to bugger off we will. If ya wanna come see Erebor and Dale and then tell us to bugger off, you can do that too. Not asking for anything more than to fuss at ya for a bit, and make sure you’re gonna be alright.”

“If I told you to leave right now and let me alone you would?”

“We would never just--” Thorin started.

Dwalin ran over him, “Long as you promise not to walk East of here.” He couldn’t help a quick look to stretch of haunted land beyond them.

While Thorin frowned, Bilbo nodded. “I… I don’t believe I would anymore. That path is less appealing now than it was this morning.”

He couldn’t stop himself from beaming at that. He caught sight of Thorin hiding his relief and sun-bright smile as he rummaged through a bag looking for something, or rather, for nothing.

“I meant what I said about your vows, Thorin.” Bilbo reminded them. “I will not see you break them.”

“And that’ll actually be my choice not yours, Bilbo.” Dwalin answered.

“And mine.” Thorin muttered.

What was between them was a shattered mess now, and there might not be any fixing it, no matter how much they tried.

Bilbo shook his head, still wearing that not-smile. “You realize I am still angry with you both.”

“I believe that is a state we all share.” Thorin said, “And I do not have any expectations of a rapid repair and reconciliation of what has come between us.”

“Yes.”

“Aye.”

“But you will come-- you will consider coming to Erebor with us?”

“I am keeping Bag End.”

“That wasn’t a no.”

“Quite right. I suppose you’ll have to see if I have changed my mind in the morning.” Thorin beamed at him for that, “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” he dodged, “I was just recalling the last time you made your choice in the morning.”

Bilbo ducked his head, but neither of them could miss the way he smiled.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One, I did not post this late to torture you. I promise. Two, I'll be answering comments soon since you guys are doing some high level analysis on this thing, I feel like it needs some high level response.   
> I adore you all. The response to this story has been mind-boggling. I am so flattered and appreciative of every single comment. Which is why I try to answer as many as I can.   
> You all got rid of my anxiety about this, and forced me to edit and rewrite to keep ahead of your predictive skills. I can't imagine it could have been any more fun to do. Thank you. 
> 
> Oh, and you might want to keep an eye out tomorrow. This said 32 chapters yesterday, it says 31 today, I bet you can figure out what I'm implying. You figured out everything else. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Eternal Thanks to [Meph](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mephestopheles/pseuds/mephestopheles) , my glorious and all seeing-Beta.
> 
> Thank you for reading. ~~This piece has me rather anxious about posting it~~ , so I would love to hear from you. (you're all so sweet this is not really true anymore!)  
> You are always welcome to come talk to me on [Tumblr](http://striving-artist.tumblr.com/)  about the fic, or anything else you need or want to.


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